Fading Flames
by WhimsicalShmoo
Summary: When Prince Zuko discovers he has been given an arranged marriage, the results are far from pleasant. Who is this girl and how will the relationship ever work out? After a few choice events, fates change and futures are lost. Eventual Zuko x Yue
1. Teenage Troubles

Hi! This is my first story here on FanFiction and I've put a lot of effort into it. This story takes place 2 or 3 years before the start of the show, and it will be Zuko x Yue eventually.

Reviews would be greatly appreciated, though I'm not demanding any. All I ask is that you explain your opinions. If you liked the story, that's great, and if you hated it, that's fine too. Be brutal, just add constructive criticism. Thank you, and enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender, or any of it's characters.

* * *

A boy lay sprawled on the ground, his pale hand trailing listlessly in the cool, refreshing pond. Birdsong trilled through the sweltering air, a reminder that spring was well underway. The exotic flowers were in full bloom, adding color to the otherwise drab landscape. Sighing contentedly, the teen shut his golden eyes, savoring the reassuring heat of the sun on his skin. He had always found solace in the rays of the celestial body, and he had good reason to seeing as it was his power source, the provider of his style of bending. 

However, today the peace was short-lived as he heard the unwelcome call of his sister, echoing around the palace garden, "Oh, there you are! Hiding from father again, aren't you?"

Propping himself up on his elbows, Prince Zuko glared up at his 11-year-old sister, clearly annoyed at having been disturbed, "leave me alone, 'Zula."

Azula shrugged, a teasing grin crossing her face, as she began to walk away, "you're such a baby, Zuzu."

"Don't call me that!" Zuko leapt to his feet, only to discover she had disappeared back into the palace. Sighing exasperatedly, he settled into a sitting position near the koi pond, hugging his knees to his chest. He _hated_ Azula. He hated how she always got away with everything, how she was father's favorite.

Quietly at first, the firebender began to hear the familiar quacking of turtle ducks. Most everyone in the palace knew that a family of the little critters inhabited the pond. Retrieving a hunk of bread from a pouch at his side, Zuko habitually began feeding it to the ducks that had gathered. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he recalled how his mother had done the same thing. Brushing it away angrily, Zuko tried to regain his posture. But the tears kept coming, wetting the sleeves of his tunic as he fought his emotions. If only he knew where his mother was, if only his sister weren't such a jerk, if only…

Zuko stopped himself. Frowning he glared at the tears that soiled the soft fabric of his clothing. He was almost 14; the age at which he would be considered an adult. What was he thinking? A familiar rage built up inside him, dispelling any sadness that remained instantaneously. That was good. Anger was all right, as his father often displayed it. And everything his father did was all right.

Unexpectedly, two hands gripped his shoulders, and he jumped, uttering a startled gasp. Swiftly, the teenager turned his head to catch a glimpse of his attacker. The culprit was none other than his uncle.

Uncle Iroh stood behind him, hands still planted firmly on his shoulders, his usual broad smile on his craggy features. His coarse hair, though once a deep brown, was now graying, though his bright golden eyes still had a youthful look to them. "Someone's jumpy today," greeted the old man amiably, taking a seat beside his nephew.

The prince simply forced a small smile for his senior's benefit, before glancing back to the pond. The turtle ducks, having finished their meal, had retreated back to the more densely vegetated portion of the lake, leaving the shimmering surface still. _Like a mirror…_

"Is something troubling you?" Iroh questioned with deepest concern, though still managing to keep his voice light. That was what Zuko loved about Iroh. He was always was there for Zuko, always had been since…

"Nothing serious, uncle," replied the Prince cautiously, not wanting to spill the whole truth. But at a raised eyebrow from Iroh, he decided against it, knowing that his uncle would pry the truth from him sooner or later. "I miss mom."

"I know how you feel," began Iroh, his voice remaining steady although his expression darkened, "I felt the same way when my son died." There was a long silence, in which Zuko concentrated on the sight before him, as igf the lifeless water were the most intriguing object he had every seen. His uncle glanced up at the clouds, patiently waiting for his nephew to reply.

"It's not the same," Zuko answered, after a bit, sudden anger making it's way into his voice, though he knew not its cause. His uncle was trying to help him, to cheer him up. It was rude to act this way. But at that moment, Zuko found he couldn't care less, and he plunged into greater depth, his heart cascading out. "At least you know what happened to Lu Ten. Mom could still be alive somewhere, and I'll never know. It doesn't make a difference if she's rotting away somewhere or not, because I'll never be able to find her!"

"That may be, Zuko, but life goes on," Iroh stated wisely, placed a comforting hand on his nephew's shoulder, directing a sympathetic smile at him, "besides, Ursa left to protect you, didn't she."

A nod was all Iroh received in response. Another silence prevailed over the two for awhile, as they each sat with their own thoughts. The drone of cicadas could be heard, along with other sounds of late spring. Far off, the turtle ducks could be heard squawking, though they were still hidden from sight.

Finally Zuko broke the lull, casting a smile of gratitude towards his elder, "thank you."

Grinning, Iroh slowly rose to his feet stretching, "you're quite welcome, Prince Zuko. Now, would you care to join me for a game of Pai Sho and some tea?" A mischievous glint was born into Iroh's eyes as he made this statement, and Zuko nearly laughed. It was no secret that Zuko disliked the game, but his uncle always liked to make it sound like a treat.

But, in a reasonably good mood, now that his anxiety about his mother had momentarily passed, he decided to humor the old man. Returning the grin, he got to his feet, before glancing at his elder, "of course, Uncle."

"Marvelous. Let's go, shall we?"

* * *

"It's your move, nephew," muttered Iroh, glancing up at Zuko who was gazing out the large window, as he had been doing between turns for nearly two hours. A pensive expression was on his face, as he gazed out at the garden, staring at the flowers with feigned interest, though Iroh could he wasn't really seeing them. "Zuko?" 

"Yes, Uncle?" the prince replied absent-mindedly, not taking his eyes from the window.

"It's your turn."

"Oh, right." Glancing at the Pai Sho board, the Prince picked up a random game piece, transferring it a space to the left. With that done he returned to his former position, the expression of aloofness never leaving his visage.

"Zuko…"

"Yes, Uncle?"

"This is the tenth time I've won," voiced the older firebender with a mixture of amusement and concern. Honestly, he knew his nephew was a rather poor player when it came to Pai Sho, but he had always put up at least a bit of a challenge. This was like playing with the wall, is the wall had the ability to move pieces.

"Huh?" the glazed look finally retreated from the prince's eyes, and he gave a start, before glancing at his uncle, as if just realizing he were there.

Something was off. Zuko was a fairly thoughtful child, as far as children went, but he had always been attentive, never as blatantly oblivious as this before. Iroh knew Zuko was behaving strangely, and he didn't hesitate in voicing his opinion. "Zuko, this isn't like you. I can't help but feel that something is amiss."

"It's fine," a weak smile twitched the corners of his lips slightly upward, and he visibly put more effort into his next move, though Iroh was not appeased. The smile had been a little too forced for his liking.

"Zuko, something's the matter and you know it. You can tell me."

After taking a small sip from his teacup, Zuko gazed up at his Uncle, a slight hint of anxiety clear in his eyes. Nonetheless, he hesitated only seconds before attempting to make his dilemma known. "I don't know, uncle. It's just…my birthday is in three weeks, and…" His voice trailed off and he looked down at his pale hands, folded in his lap, not sure how to continue.

"Nervous?" guessed, grinning knowingly, as he counteracted the prince's move, winning once more. Perhaps he should start offering the kid lessons. A bit of improvement wouldn't hurt.

"No, I…after my birthday…I-I'll miss being a kid."

"Zuko," Iroh placed a hand on his nephew's shoulder, casting him an understanding smile, his eyes emanating comprehension, "I know what you're going through. True, you will have more responsibilities, but you'll still have time to yourself…"

"Uncle, I've seen my schedule." Zuko stated calmly, an odd defiance in his voice, as if determined to prove Iroh wrong.

"What?"

"I've seen my schedule." Zuko repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, as he faced his uncle. Iroh could see the desperation in his nephew's eyes, the need to let out whatever had been troubling him growing in his voice as he continued. "Firebending, geography, history, etiquette, mathematics, literature—uncle, I won't have _any_ time at _all_!"

"Now, Zuko…" Iroh attempted to soothe the boy, before he grew too upset.

"I don't want to grow up yet! I'm not ready! I just want to be a kid!"

"Zuko!" Iroh seized the boy's flailing arms, before he could set fire to anything. The prince had a nasty habit of leaving scorch marks on his surroundings when he got into a temper, as he had not yet mastered the concept of proper control over his element.

The prince blinked, glancing from his uncle to his wrists, rather perplexed. Then, seeming to realize he had been on the verge of flaming the palace, he blanched minutely, before apologizing, "oh, sorry."

Cautiously, the retired general relinquished his grasp on his nephew's limbs, assuring him in a calm voice, before he set fire to the wall hangings. Iroh hated to see his nephew upset, but sometimes, there was very little he could do on the matter. "I know you're going through a lot, but things will get better, I-"

"No they won't!" Zuko yelled, inexplicable anger seething through his veins, as he leapt to his feet, fists alight with flames. What did Iroh know? What did anyone know? People always tried to understand, but they couldn't. No one could ever understand…heatedly, the prince stormed from the room in high dungeon.

Emitting a distressed sigh, Iroh began putting away the game board and pieces. His nephew was one of the most bipolar people he had ever met; one moment, he was a sweet, well-behaved, happy child, the next he was flaring, literally, yelling and screaming…

Things had not always been that way. Before Ursa had left, the prior personality had been dominant, the second, if it had ever shown, for Iroh could not remember exactly, had been fleeting, never anything like this. But with Ursa's departure, a new side of Zuko had arisen, and as time passed, this side was growing more and more prominent, and Iroh was becoming worried. The prince had constant mood swings, his temperament akin to that of his element; harsh, unpredictable, and dangerous if you were in its way. The old tea-lover couldn't help but feel that he was losing Zuko, that with every passing day he became more out of his control, more like what the old bender had been determined to keep him from becoming. His father. Ozai was taking seed in the boy's mind, twisting him into something horrible and deformed. If left unattended, the consequences could be irreversible.

With a small, sad smile, Iroh placed the board away on its shelf, musing aloud to himself, "What fun we'll have when he finds out about the arranged marriage…"

"What?"

Iroh froze and glanced up at the door to see none other than his nephew, a mixture of anger and disbelief on his face. _Oh no_, was his only thought as he waited for the explosion. As a desperate last attempt, he made as if to gloss the matter over, "oh, Prince Zuko, I-"

"Uncle, when exactly _is_ this arranged marriage?" Zuko inquired, approaching his uncle. He used a skeptical, yet hesitant, voice, as if having guessed more on the matter, yet not knowing if his assumptions were true, or rather hoping they weren't.

"After your birthday…" Iroh answered flatly, realizing he was fighting a lost cause.

"I don't think I heard you correctly," began Zuko, his voice had a hint of laughter in it. If Iroh hadn't known better, he would have thought Zuko didn't believe him, but he knew better. Zuko was simply trying to convince himself otherwise; Iroh never lied to him. Never. "My birthday is in _three weeks_…I can't…in three weeks!"

"Well, more like three months actually," contradicted the elder, hoping to ease the impact of this news. Zuko was taking this just as he had expected. Within minutes there would be the flames and screaming.

Zuko stared dubiously at the old firebender, his face the picture of indignation. His whole form portrayed complete instability, on the verge of either fuming at the latest injustice, or laughing at this amusing joke. When he spoke, his tone was half dumb-founded, half-frantic. "Uncle, I'm 13, for Agni's sake…this is absurd!"

"Well, 14 _is_ the marrying age in the Firenation…" defended Iroh lamely. This was not going to end well, though it wasn't as if he had expected it to. Zuko was touchy on the best of matters these days…

At that remark, the prince exploded, quite literally, as his fists flared. This simply wasn't fair. His _life_ wasn't fair, not in the least. And now to add this to the mix…he seethed with pent up wrath. "Uncle, I'm _NOT _getting married!"

Standing up, Iroh tried to placate the teen, the gears in his brain rushing to come up with a plausible solution. "I'll talk to your father, Zuko, but I don't know if I'll be able to change his mind-"

"I DON'T CARE!" bellowed the enraged Prince, flames flying from his clenched palms, as he became caught up in his fury. "Just _DO_ something. _ANYTHING!"_

"ZUKO, CALM DOWN!" Iroh returned, raising his voice to compete with his nephew's. If the boy wouldn't listen to sense, he would listen to this. "CONTROL YOURSELF! I know you're going through a hard time right now, BUT THERE'S NO NEED TO ACT IN SUCH A MANNER!

Surprisingly, the Prince took his uncle's advice. Slowly, he began to inhale and exhale, counting silently under his breath. The flames began to die, and gradually, the anger passed, leaving him feeling empty and drained. Heaving a deep sigh, Zuko continued in a more level voice, trying successfully to keep his emotions in check. "Uncle, this just doesn't seem fair. I mean…why should others be able to control my life like this? Be able to say what I do and what I don't…I'm tired of it."

"I know, Zuko," replied Iroh, easing his nephew into a sitting position, his composure regained. It seemed the rage had blown over for the time being. "I know, but it's you're duty as Prince of the Fire Nation. You must obey…"

"I know, Uncle, I know." Zuko whispered, his eyes closing as he spoke. He knew he needed to listen to his nation, to his father, but… "I just wish I had a choice…"

* * *

Dinner was much the same as usual. Firelord Ozai sat at one end of the table, prattling on ceaselessly about political matters of some sort to some highly ranked officials, while Iroh was seated at the other end, Zuko and Azula on either side of him. Despite the delicious fare laid out before them, Zuko had not eaten a morsel. 

Cocking an eyebrow, Iroh faced his nephew, a slight smirk on his face, "you know, Zuko, starving yourself won't do any good." Really, his nephew could be rather ridiculous sometimes.

"I know, uncle," Zuko replied glumly, seizing a piece of particularly tantalizing chicken between his enamel chopsticks and stuffing it half-heartedly in his mouth. Despite its pleasing appearance, the meat tasted like ash to Zuko, sticking to his dry mouth and catching on the lump in his throat. After several minutes of discomfort, Zuko managed to swallow the, now offensive, item, tears beading at the corners of his eyes as he choked down the piece. He wasn't crying, it was simply a natural reaction, like how one's eyes would tear if one's hair were pulled.

He caught Iroh's eye and smiled, though on the inside he felt like doing anything but. His throat stung and felt choked from withheld emotion, though he couldn't do anything to release it. Not now anyway, in front of his father.

Iroh returned the smile, even if he had a hint of sadness in it. At least Zuko was eating now; the prince had managed to force down some mashed potatoes, as they were less solid and easier to swallow. But Zuko had lapsed into his quiet, on the verge of tears stage, which was most definitely Iroh's least favorite. At least when Zuko was screaming and yelling, he didn't look so horribly depressed. It broke Iroh's heart, and he hated it.

Because of this, and many of his own reasons, Iroh had made up his mind to confront Ozai on the matter of the arranged marriage after dinner. As Zuko's uncle, he felt it his job to stand up for the other boy and protect him as Ozai only cared about Azula.

At the moment, the girl was sitting on her uncle's right, eating elegantly, in the most lady-like manner imaginable. The Fire Lord glanced over at her lovingly from time to time, bragging about her to all his advisors at every chance he got, occasional putting down Zuko simultaneously time when possible ("Did you know that my darling Azula here as already accomplished the first set?" "She's only been in training for a few months and she's already better than her brother." "A true prodigy, just like her grandfather." "Complete opposite of Zuko; the wretch took years to learn the first sets, and failed miserably all the way. I'm embarrassed to call him my son.").

Azula sat politely the whole time, smiling sweetly at her father's praise, joined with great enthusiasm by the other important officials. When no one was looking, she would smirk at Zuko, her eyes flashing maliciously, as if ignited with fires from hell.

Normally, Zuko would mouth back unkind things, though today his spirits were too low for that sort of thing. It didn't help that he was catching bits of his father's conversation, though it wasn't anything knew. It went on this way for hours sometimes at dinner, and Zuko had grown slightly numb to the insults, though it didn't hurt any less for the familiarity.

Iroh, noticing this, tried to make Zuko laugh with a few jokes, but the prince wasn't in the mood. It enraged the elder that his brother said such things, right _in front_ of the boy, no less. Even if Zuko tried his best to hide it, the words were killing him inside, slowly but surely, a deadly poison destined to kill its victim gradually. And Iroh was dying right alongside his 'second son'. The pain he had experienced from the loss of Lu Ten had been devastating, but Zuko had helped him get through that, with his smiles, and laughs.

Eventually dinner was over, and Iroh swiftly stood and gathered Zuko. Azula gave a last sneer at her brother than bid her father goodnight and went in the direction of her own room.

"Iroh," Zuko piped up suddenly, trying hard to keep his voice as cheerful as he could manage. He didn't need Iroh worrying anymore…he had upset him enough for one day.

"Yes, nephew?" he replied, glancing inquisitively at the younger bender. Zuko was looking up at him with his large liquid gold eyes. Iroh instantly felt relieved, as from what he could tell, Zuko was in a much better mood. Though something seemed slightly off…it was strange.

"I just wanted to say thank you," they had reached his door by now, and Zuko spoke with his hand on the knob, his back to Iroh. "Thank you for all you've done for me. For everything." Zuko's heart was in his throat; he could feel the tears rising and he was glad he had cut himself off when he had. Besides, it would have seemed sappy…

"You're welcome, Zuko," Iroh replied, wrapping his arms around his nephew. "Goodnight...and don't worry. I'll take care of everything. I'll take care of you. Forever, I promise."

"Thank you, uncle," the prince whispered, before slipping out of his elder's embrace and into his room, "goodnight."

"Goodnight," repeated Iroh once again, though the door was closed and he doubted Zuko heard him. Stretching and stifling a yawn, he made his way back to the dining hall. Ozai would most likely still be there, drinking wine with his posse. And Iroh, summoning his courage, was about to pick a few bones with his dear little brother.


	2. Useless Words

Hi. I am so sorry that it took like...two weeks to get this chapter up. I really don't have any excuse, I'm just lazy lately. Hopefully the next one won't take as long. And thank you so much for all of the replies to last chapter! I hardly expected one, let alone five! Enjoy! (hopefully)

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender or any of it's characters.

* * *

Iroh strode back down the hallway in the direction from which he had come, intent on finding Ozai before he retired to bed. The passages were quiet now, as many of the palace's inhabitants had already gone to sleep. As he walked down the tapestry strewn corridors, all he could hear was the steady _click_ of his shoes on the marble tile. The noise was both comforting and nerve-racking. He was glad that he might be able to discuss his problem with his brother in near privacy, but he couldn't help but feel utterly alone, as if he were the only one in the whole building at the moment. 

After a few minutes, he reached the entrance to the dining hall. A pair of elaborately carved metal doors stood before him, depicting twin dragons forever caught in a lethal dance. Both serpentine creatures had large glittering rubies for eyes. But the strange beauty was lost on Iroh as he was far too occupied at the moment. Hesitating for only a moment, he pushed open the doors and slipped inside.

It was as he had expected. Lord Ozai, along with several other men, sat at the dinner table sipping red wine placidly in between their near ceaseless conversations. Some had graying hair and some looked to be in their early thirties, but all of them shared the same power hungry aura. Iroh vaguely wondered if, perhaps, that was one of Ozai's requirements when selecting the higher-ups.

Noticing his older brother, Ozai offered him a seat and Iroh took it, also accepting the glass of crimson liquid that a servant poured him with thanks. Not really aware of what was being said or particularly caring, Iroh let his mind wander as he waited for the rest of the group to leave. It wasn't that he was afraid of his brother, it was just that he was afraid of what the younger firebender might do to Zuko, if, somehow, Iroh managed to upset him. Long ago, Ozai had discovered that the easiest way to get through to his older brother was through his son, and he had taken to punishing the boy for everything his uncle did.

Iroh fervently hoped that it wouldn't come to that. To avoid unfavorable consequences, however, he would need to word his complaint tactfully and in an inoffensive manner, both difficult tasks in the Fire Lord's presence. He would need some time to plan it out, and, for once, he was glad the others were taking their time in leaving.

* * *

Zuko lay awake on his bed eyes fixed on the ceiling, as he pondered over the day's events. So much had happened, it seemed almost a decade since he had last lain in bed like this. Was his father really going to go through with the arranged marriage? Or would Iroh be able to stop him? He vehemently hoped he would. It wasn't that he wanted to go against his father. No. He loved his father with all his heart and would never enjoy disobeying him. Never. 

It was more the fact that he didn't want to get married. Well, that wasn't completely true. He _had_ planned on being wed in the future, of course, as he would need to obtain a Fire Lady once he became Fire Lord, if he were to produce any heirs. But not this _soon_. He wanted to enjoy the little bit of childhood he had left. The thoughtful days spent beside the pond, the enlightening hours spent reading in the library, the comfortable nights spent playing Pai Sho with his uncle while they talked about anything that came to mind. Zuko had always taken those things for granted, and now that they were about to be taken away from him, he realized how much he would miss them.

All he could do now, though, was wish for the best and have faith that Iroh would get through to Ozai, that he would somehow be able to stop the arranged marriage. He just had to trust in Iroh. He had never failed him before.

Gradually, he felt his consciousness growing foggier as the clutches of sleep ensnared him. The thoughts of the past and hopes for the future were replaced by a deep, dreamless sleep. And for the remainder of the night, the prince slept soundly, lost from the worries of the mortal world.

* * *

The moment Iroh had been awaiting had finally come. One by one, the assemblage was slowly diminishing as the members left the dining hall in favor of their beds. Ozai bid his adieu to each one of them politely, though Iroh could see the falseness behind his actions. His brother never did put emotion into anything, simply choosing to fake sadness or joy whenever it felt appropriate. There was always a reason behind it. 

Five people remained in the room; then four, then three, and finally two. Ozai stood as if to leave, as Iroh wasn't taking the initiative. He was halfway out of the room, before Iroh called him back. "May I have a word with you, Ozai?" Iroh requested calmly, remaining seated at the table, though his insides were swirling with apprehension.

Ozai, quirking an eyebrow, returned to his seat, eyeing his elder with skepticism. The brothers never really fought outright anymore, tending to avoid each other instead, keeping a minimum to their arguments and their differences buried where they needn't be found or addressed. But now those differences were resurfacing in the face of a new dilemma that couldn't be left untouched. "What is it, brother?" questioned the younger snidely, brushing a few strands of dark hair from his face. Iroh watched the actions, feeling slightly envious. Ozai, though he was already in his early-forties, looked as if he were not a day over twenty, while Iroh, nearing his fifties did not belie his age.

"It's about the arranged marriage," began Iroh, watching his little brother for a reaction. Ozai gave none, simply gazing back expectantly with those sharp, cunning eyes. "I was wondering if you would reconsider. Perhaps postpone it a few years."

Ozai didn't bide his time in replying. "Why?" he countered, as soon as his brother had finished, his facial sentiments never differing from apathy. His eyes, however, seemed to grow a darker gold as he continued, though it may have just been a trick of the light. "He will be of marrying age in a few weeks time. The sooner we get this over with the better. It's not as if he would ever find love…who could ever love such a weakling?"

Iroh tried valiantly to keep from frying his dear little brother there and then, knowing that it would not turn out well in the end for either of them. But the scornful tone used by Ozai struck a sensitive nerve somewhere inside him, and he couldn't help but flare with sudden rage. His mind worked quickly, trying desperately to come up with something civil to say. "Will a few years make that much of a difference? I'm asking you, as family, to do what's best for the boy. Please, just allow him a few more years."

Ozai frowned, elegantly curved eyebrows slanting downwards minutely. He knew where his brother was coming from, but he didn't want to listen to his advice, nor did he particularly care what happened to the brat. If an early marriage would cause grief for his eldest, then so be it. The whelp deserved to suffer. "What's best for him? What's best for him is to learn to do what he's told, and not question the orders of his superiors. The marriage _will_ continue, end of discussion."

"But-" Iroh started, trying to get in a word edgeways before his brother left. But it was not to be.

"This conversation, is _closed_," Ozai spat, eyes flashing, as he got to his feet, long crimson robes billowing around him as he did so. He had barely taken a step in the direction of the door when Iroh spoke up again.

"Listen, Ozai-" Iroh stood as well, prepared to give his little brother a piece of his mind before he could get away. The junior whipped around, silky raven hair fanning about him with the movement, as he glared at his elder, perfect features displaying an expression of utmost loathing.

"The arranged marriage is still on _period_. I will hear no more on the subject." The Fire Lord was angry now, seething both inwardly and outwardly, and had it not been such a serious matter, Iroh would have been hard put not to laugh, as his brother rarely lost his composure. But this _was_ serious.

Ozai made to take his leave, candlelight glittering off his attire's golden embroidery as he swiftly headed towards the door. Iroh, in a desperate last attempt, seized his little brother's wrist, holding it firmly to prevent the younger from leaving.

A look of shock passed over the junior's face, though within instants, it turned to rage. "_Let go of me_." His tone was acid, a burning, dangerous voice, hate and disgust fused with every syllable. But Iroh didn't release him. Instead he tightened his grip as his little brother tried to pull away, apparently feeling the ache as his bones strained under the pressure. Though Iroh may not have as much political power as Ozai, he was certainly stronger, and the Fire Lord, while be a powerful bender, did not have the brute strength to fight his older brother's grasp.

However, Iroh's recklessness had caused a momentary lapse in judgement, and he failed to anticipate what happened next. One minute the skin on his brother's wrist was rather cool for that of a firebender, but the next, it was searing hot, enough so, that Iroh gave a startled yelp and let go. Using Iroh's disadvantage against him, Ozai made his get away, storming out of the dining hall and down the corridor to his bedroom. Even if Iroh had followed him, the end of his brother's cloak would have disappeared around the corner before he even left the room. Ozai had won this round.

Sighing, Iroh gathered some ice from one of the left over glasses, and applied it to his burnt hand. Of all the outcomes he had expected, this had not been one of them. He had expected his little brother to remain calm and sincerely say "I'll consider it" before leaving. And perhaps a drop of his most concentrated sarcasm wouldn't have gone awry in those superficial parting words either. However, the outcome had resulted in a much less friendly resolution of the issue, though perhaps a far too decisive one as well. It was strange behavior on the Fire Lord's account, as he had never been one to make rash decisions, always deliberating thoroughly, before acting. But Ozai always had been unpredictable.

* * *

Zuko awoke the next morning to the sunlight streaming in through the windows of his bedroom, shrouding the whole of his room in liquid gold. Ever since childhood, he had never been prone to sleeping late, as the early hours were often the most peaceful and enjoyable time of the day. And everyday, despite the drawn curtains, the light would manage to creep its way into the room, as if the curtains were not there at all. Even if he _had_ wanted to, how could he sleep with such light shining in his face? 

Disentangling himself from his crimson sheets, he got to his feet, stretching languidly. He stood in the center of his room, blinking for a few moments, before washing his face in the basin and dressing in his daytime attire. Today he was feeling unusually lazy, and all he had mind to do at the moment was return to bed, though that was an odd desire to say the least. Not in his memory had he ever once wanted to go back to sleep after awakening, apart from those times in the middle of the night, when nightmares haunted his dreams.

Still, he pulled his covers into place—a habit he picked up from his mother, as she had never felt it right that the servants should have to do what you could easily do yourself—and slipped out into the hallway. He had had the intention of sneaking down to the kitchens to get a bite of breakfast, as it was still too early for the rest of the palace to be up for an organized meal. However, the person he saw on the way swept that idea completely from his mind.

Iroh stood just outside his door, an apprehensive look on his face. Immediately, Zuko grew wary. His uncle was rarely bothered by anything, a fact he knew well from personal experience, so the expression of unease was strange in and of itself. Add to that the fact that Iroh, since he retired, very seldom awoke before noon, let alone at daybreak, and you could only reach one possible conclusion. Something was the matter, and Zuko wasn't sure if he wanted to find out. If it was enough to perturb his uncle, then it was definitely something terrible. But, his inner curiosity got the better of him, and he asked the question, the words sounding oddly far off as he voiced them, as if he were standing far off somewhere, listening rather than speaking, "Uncle, what is it?"

Gazing at his nephew, Iroh hesitated. He knew he should just get it over with, just tell the boy what had happened and be done with it, but some part of him desperately wanted to keep last nights events to himself. The boy already had enough troubles, despite the problems this revelation would cause. However, as if not of his own accord, the words began to pour from his mouth. "Your father refuses to do anything about the arranged marriage. In three months time, you will be getting married, though to whom, I'm afraid I don't know."

Zuko's heart plummeted as he gaped open-mouthed at his elder. He could feel his pulse quickening, his mind going blank with that sinking feeling of hopelessness. All last night, no matter how much the doubt was there, he had managed to convince himself that Iroh would be able to handle this, that his uncle would be able to do something. And now he felt as if he were in a haze. If the previous words had seemed far away, these only felt farther. They fell upon his ears, unheard, though their meaning somehow managed to worm their way into the young prince's brain.

Yet, strangely enough, he didn't feel the usual wave of anger coming up to drown him in its depths. The rage at the extreme injustice of this all did not come. He simply stood there, at a loss for words, his stomach falling gradually to the floor. All hope of getting out of this thing was now lost. From this point on, there was no way to avoid it.

Politely excusing himself, he made his way towards the garden, all thoughts of breakfast gone from his mind. He needed to think, and the kitchens would be no good for that.

* * *

The pond was quiet and secluded as usual, a great relief to the prince. He didn't want to talk to anybody right now. 

His uncle had failed him. The few hours before he fell asleep last night, he had held belief in his uncle, past that of any he had ever felt before. Iroh had always succeeded, he had always triumphed. He had always come out on top, in Zuko's mind, at least. But this time, the time when he most needed his uncle's help, it hadn't come. Destiny was playing a sick, cruel joke on him, and he hated it. He didn't blame his uncle, though. No. He blamed whatever twisted fates had sentenced this upon him when his life already held enough confusion and grief.

It just seemed so unfair that he should have to marry at such a young age. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Perhaps the girl would be nice and polite and friendly. Mayhap they would become good friends and it would be more like a friendship than anything else.

But that wouldn't matter. Of course he would prefer the previously mentioned type of girl to some stuck-up snob, but it wouldn't change much. It would still take away some of the only freedom he would have left in the times to come. And that, more than anything else was why he despised the idea.

The quacking of the turtle-ducks soon reached his ears, and he sighed, smiling slightly as the ducks began to tug at his sleeve, asking for food. "I'm sorry," the prince whispered, stroking one of the creatures softly, the mother. "I don't have anything for you right now. Maybe later." Giving him a disgusted look, the turtle-duck mother led her ducklings back to their spot behind the reeds. The firebender sadly watched them go.

Zuko hardly noticed when an arm snaked itself around his shoulders, its owner plopping down beside him. He vaguely registered the fact that it was his uncle, and remained silent, gaze fixed on the spot where the ducks had disappeared. It was only when his uncle spoke, did he pay attention, "I know this is hard for you, but if it makes you feel any better, you're not alone. I went through the same thing, as did your mother and father. Azula will mostly likely endure the same fate as well."

Zuko, hearing the last bit, couldn't help but brighten, if only minutely. Azula deserved any ill fortune that came her way. The little brat had always been father's favorite, had always had her every wish granted. If she had asked for Zuko to be dead, he surely would have been by now. He was only alive, because she hadn't. She enjoyed torturing him far too much to want him dead.

It was only after these thoughts ran their length that his brain began to mull over the previous sentences. So Iroh had been married? Zuko had assumed as much, since he did, afterall, have a son. _Or _had_ a son_, he added as an afterthought, a twinge going through his heart. He had always liked his older cousin. Lu Ten had been like a brother to him, and his admiration for the boy had run deep. It had hurt him profoundly when he heard news of his cousin's death, but not nearly as much as his mother's disappearance had. So his mother and father were joined in an arranged marriage? Although it didn't really surprise him all that much, he still found the revelation rather interesting. Before now, he had never considered that possibility, but there it was, laid out before him.

Iroh remained silent while his nephew pondered this new information, gazing around at the blooming flowers absently. Several water lilies floated on the pond, both pink and purple in color, contrasting sharply with the turquoise mirror beneath them. Roses, tulips, daises, and all other manner of flowers surrounded the pond and framed the perimeter of the garden. Blues, whites, yellows, pinks, reds, and a good deal of green, accompanied by all the other colors of the rainbow, were visible.

After a bit, Zuko did something he wouldn't have normally done. He hugged his uncle, wrapping his thin arms tightly around as much of his elder's considerable girth as he could manage. "Thank you so much," he whispered, as Iroh embraced the boy, easily encasing him. Comfortingly, he ran a hand along the boy's back, soothing him, as he could hear the unshed tears in the prince's voice. But Zuko didn't cry, simply remaining in the embrace for a few moments longer, before pulling away, dry-eyed.

"You're welcome," the older firebender returned, smiling, as he got to his feet, holding out his hand to his young charge. Zuko gladly took it, and Iroh grinned. "Now let's see about some breakfast."

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Reviews would be appreaciated! 


	3. News and Threats

"I've found out who the arranged marriage is going to be with," Iroh stated offhandedly at dinner a week after the discussion with his little brother over the arranged marriage. Shoving a particularly large forkful of beef into his mouth, the old firebender turned his gaze to the boy sitting at his right, observing his reaction with intrigue.

Zuko glanced up at Iroh from where he was playing around with his food, eyes wide with interest. The look he gave his uncle could have been considered pleading if it hadn't been for the fact that Zuko was the one giving the look, as the prince Inever/I begged. But the retired war general took his time in replying, chewing his abnormally large mouthful with a deliberate lack of speed, and watching his nephew carefully. The teen's expression, a mixture of indignation and utmost curiosity, was priceless to say the least. And it only seemed to intensify as time wore on.

From across the table, Ozai was now looking over as well, eager to see how his son would respond, and if the news would make his son as miserable as he hoped it would. He had taken his time considering, but even the best-laid plans could go awry. However, despite his excitement, he made a point of continuing his conversation, only surveying his first-born out of the corner of his eye. To a passerby, it would have been impossible to note he was multitasking.

After what seemed an hour, though in reality was merely a minute or two, Iroh finished chewing, swallowing the now-mush. Dabbing lightly at his mouth with a napkin and taking a sip from his tea, the old firebender glanced up at his nephew's anxious countenance, and answered. "I believe you know her already," Zuko's visage now took on a hint of confusion, though none of his curiosity was lost at these words, "she's one of your sister's friends. Her name is Mai."

The prince frowned, mulling over this new information. It wasn't the worst possible match, and for that Zuko was grateful. With his father in charge of the proceedings, he had expected to end up with someone more along the lines of Ty Lee, who would drive him to insanity within minutes, with her bubbly attitude, blatant optimistically cheerful disposition, and a blindingly pink wardrobe to go with it.

However, it wasn't exactly the best either. Azula's friend had always seemed rather dull and gloomy, not particularly his ideal of someone he would be forced to spend the rest of his life with, like it or not. Often he had seen her sitting under a tree somewhere in the garden, while his sister and Ty Lee played at gymnastics. On occasion he had noticed a brief smile crossing her face when she first saw him, before glancing away in embarrassment. But his joyful remuneration of watching his little sister fail miserably—at least in comparison—as she attempted to do cartwheels and hand springs with her pink-clad friend, had been the main focus of these excursions. And Mai had always stayed off to the side, quiet and withdrawn, if slightly less dismal then usual.

Yet she had never been rude or mean to him, as he would have expected from any of his sister's friends. Mai had always been the quiet one in their little group, simply there and not really taking sides in a conflict. In fact, she seemed to almost object to making fun of him, always bringing up some other activity when Azula wanted to torture her sibling, as his sister was always the perpetrator.

Ty Lee would go along with Azula everytime, no doubt only to gain attention—a much-desired thing, as she lived with several other sisters. Still, she would never start anything on her own, or go along with something potentially dangerous or life-threatening to any of the involved parties. But Mai had been different. Zuko clearly remembered those few times he had been forced to play with his sibling and her comrades, the times when Azula had always invented new and more terrible ways to torment her elder brother. Mai had usually come up with an alternative activity, an odd action for a normally unresponsive girl, though they had often been turned down. She had tried though, and it was the thought that counted, Zuko supposed.

But still, the prince didn't know if he could ever love her. Maybe after they got to know each other better they might become the best of friends and he would love her accordingly, but would any deeper bond result? Zuko was unsure, but perhaps after some time it would work out. Hopefully.

"Alright," he acknowledged quietly, offering a weak, yet genuine, smile as he returned to his meal. Iroh was simply ecstatic that his nephew didn't seem to mind the match. As his emotions from the previous outburst had already come in full circle, the elder firebender had been dreading that Zuko would take this opportunity to throw another tantrum. However, that seemed not to be the case, as Zuko simply sat there, a faint smile never leaving his lips as he ate the rest of his dinner. If Iroh didn't know better he would have thought his nephew was actually Ipleased/I with the match.

Across the table, Ozai appeared slightly miffed. He had wanted his son to dislike the news and throw another fit, to have an outburst, to do something reprehensible, so that he could punish him as payback for Iroh's insolence. But it was not to be. Perhaps he should have paired the boy with that pink one, the acrobat. Her vivacious attitude surely would have gotten to Zuko after awhile, and that would've been enjoyable to watch, if not a grave problem for the Fire Nation in its due course. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately for Zuko, the match could not be remade now that it had been decided. Indecisiveness was a quality to be discouraged, an absolute sign of weakness, and Ozai would Inever/I portray such a thing. But he would find other ways to make his son miserable. He was Fire Lord, after all. He had his methods.

Azula confronted Zuko after breakfast. It had come as a bit of a surprise to Zuko, for his sister rarely approached him without her little clique—daughters of other high ranking officials, though most notably Ty Lee and Mai—and today she was by herself. An odd occurrence, in and of itself.

With an unusually threatening scowl, even for the princess, she stood waiting just outside the dining room door, arms crossed over her chest, dark golden eyes watching Zuko as he neared her like a wild cat watches its prey before it attacks. Leisurely, she untwined her forelimbs, making her way over to her elder brother, jabbing him in the chest with two painted fingernails. Hard. "You better not mess this up," she intimidated, meeting his eyes with fierce determination and menace.

Zuko gazed back, indignant, confusion clear among the annoyance as he addressed her in turn, "What are you talking about, 'Zula? Mess what up? Besides that ugly little face of yours."

She grimaced, and slapped him across the face, leaving a red hand-shaped mark. Zuko made to punch her, throwing his full weight into the blow, aimed for her visage, but she dodged and he merely stumbled forward, hitting thin air. "As if you could," she taunted, approaching once more, observing him for evidence of any more attacks. There was none. Her pearly white teeth barred in a victorious, yet somehow feral grin, as she continued with self-satisfaction, "and you know very well what I mean. Or at least you should.

"Mai is going to be your wife in time, and you and I both know she has had a crush on you for a long time now. She really Ireally/I, cares about you, Zuzu, though can't imagine Iwhy/I," a contemptuous glance towards Zuko there, oddly dark eyes swift and calculating as ever, "but if you do anything to hurt her I Iwill/I make you regret it, regret being born even. That is, if don't already. If you make a mess of things for Mai, then things will get far messier for you. In a far more gruesome way then you could ever be unfortunate enough to imagine. Do I make myself clear?"

Zuko nodded reluctantly, his expression of profound rage never leaving his countenance. Azula smiled in that oh so confident yet malicious manner she had perfected, and made her way back to her quarters, where no doubt she would meet Mai, wishing her luck with Zuko, her idiot of a brother. The girl could be such a twisted, deceiving snake sometimes…

Zuko punched the wall in frustration. Already feeling the anger course through him, reaching his eyes, beginning to pour out in something that would be shameful at best if anyone were to see it. The tears were prickling, threatening to spill, as he tore towards the garden that had become a sanctuary to him, the one semi-safe place in his entire childhood. No one could see this weakness, not Azula, not his father. Not even Iroh. He had made him worry enough already.

The pond was quite, as he had hoped it would be. Now, having reached this haven of safety in this horrible place in which he lived, Zuko allowed his pace to slow, glancing around at the trees, their wide leafy canopies casting cool dark shade, a blessed thing in the heat of late summer. Deciding a change of scenery would not go amiss, Zuko knelt down before one of the sturdy, thick trunks, and leant his face against the strong wood, releasing his tears. They were hot and salty as they poured from his eyes, leaving stiff trails as they dried on both skin and trunk alike.

He was such a coward. Not only had he let himself be intimidated by a girl several years his junior, but he had also let his mother disappear from his life. That night she had bid him goodbye, he could have followed her. He could have done Isomething/I! The sobs were coming harder now, and he pressed the whole right half of his body towards the tree as if wishing to disappear into it's confines, were he would be completely and totally safe from the horrid going-ons of this world. It supported his broken frame, as the tears flooded out, only further destroying the wall that he had worked so hard to put up, the wall to keep him from reacting like this over every little thing. He wished he were as strong as the tree, for then he wouldn't have had to deal with any of this. His father would have loved him, his sister would have admired him, if not openly, for she was still Azula, and perhaps his mother wouldn't have left. Because in a world where he could please his father, everything would be perfect, and how could anything be perfect without her?

Zuko breathed deeply in and out, attempting to calm the now relenting cries, a strange contentedness spreading throughout his being. Gradually, the tears subsided, and he dried his face with the soft fabric of his robes.

Just when he was about finished with the task, he heard a small "Oh!" of surprise, and he jumped perceptibly. Retracting his sleeve from his visage, he glanced around for the source of the noise. It didn't take long to find. Before him stood none other than Mai, her sleek dark hair in the simple, yet elegant style that she usually wore it in: two tight buns with the rest of the mass allowed to flow freely past her shoulders.

"I didn't know you were here," she explained apologetically, a faint blush largely visible on her pale porcelain skin. Another gasp passed her lips as she took in his appearance, and Zuko sighed, looking down at his feet. He knew he must look dreadful, eyes no doubt bloodshot and swollen from crying, hair mussed, tunic dampened, slumped against a tree as if he had been thrown there. Gingerly, he got into a cross-legged position, restraining himself from giving any indication of the stiffness of his limbs.

"Are…are you all right?" the girl was beside him now, clearly worried, her coffee eyes wide and filled with concern.

"I'm fine," he voiced uselessly, for even Zuko could tell that the words sounded brittle and shallow, his throat dry and scratchy after his sobbing. He looked up at Mai then, and she started slightly, shock now evident in her features as he took one of her hands and gazed pleadingly into her eyes. "Please don't tell anyone I was crying. I don't want uncle to worry, and father would…" He trailed off not finishing the statement, emotions rushing in and ending his plea.

"All…all right," she promised almost immediately, her hand in his tingling pleasantly. "I promise I won't tell anyone, but...d-do you want to talk about it? What you were crying about, I mean. It helps sometimes."

"No thanks," was the curt reply, and he withdrew his hand from Mai's, straightening out his attire, smoothing out the creases. Next, he took the stiff scarlet band from his ruined top knot, finger-combing his hair as thoroughly as possible, before winding the wrapping around his tresses again, hoping desperately that it looked presentable.

It didn't. Mai was biting her lip in agitation, eyes flickering from the mess of hair, to the grass, and back again. A sure sign that something was wrong. "Is it really that bad?" he inquired, self-consciously running his palms over his head, only worsening matters.

"Here," soft hands took his arms away from their frantic observation, and then they were at his head, releasing the ribbon. Seemingly out of nowhere, Mai drew an ebony comb, inscribed with golden flowers, running the beautiful object through her crush's hair, working out all the knots. Zuko, sending a thankful glance towards the girl, allowed himself to relax, the crisis averted. It wasn't so much that Ihe/I cared what he looked like, per say, but some of the palace inhabitants surely would, and they would waste no time in alerting their lord of something so seemingly insignificant. But that was the way of the world. Even perfection received criticism, for nothing was ever perfect to everyone.

"Your hair is so soft," whispered Mai, as if to herself, still disentangling the locks, brow furrowed in concentration. "I wish mine was like this…"

"Um…thanks?" the prince replied, uncertain as to what to say, or if he should have even heard the statement at all. Apparently not, for Mai blushed such a deep red that Zuko feared her head would explode.

"I'm sorry," her voice was nearly inaudible, but Zuko had always had perceptive hearing.

"It's alright. Thanks, by the way…for helping me out."

"You're w-wel-welcome," she stuttered, tying off the topknot, returned to its usual neat state. Quietly, she got to her feet, calling a soft "Goodbye" as she left, nearly sprinting from the courtyard, still flustered.

Frowning to himself, Zuko leant against the tree, staring up at the sky, barely visible through the lush canopy. IWell,/I he mused to himself, listening to the sounds of nature around him. IThat could have gone worse…/I If he hadn't been convinced before that Mai had a crush on him, he certainly was now. In fact…he had been quite sure for awhile now. The time when Azula had tricked him into playing that game and knocking Mai into the fountain came to mind, and he smiled to himself. Indeed. A Ivery/I long time.

Getting to his feet, he made his way towards the pond, knelling beside it in his customary position. The waters were astonishingly blue under their complementary skies, their surface as still as a mirror. His reflection was better than he expected, to say the least. Dark, midnight hair was now presentable, courtesy of Mai, and his eyes were far less swollen then he had anticipated, his clothing already drying in the stifling summer heat.

Vaguely, Zuko wondered if things were finally taking a turn for the better. Already his heart felt lighter than it had earlier. He had gained a great new friend, and events had actually begun to act in his favor, as normally fates would never have had Mai find him in the garden under a tree, and help him as she had.

IHer/I tree perhaps? As he liked to sit beside the pond, perhaps she liked to sit beneath that tree. It was a long ways from far-fetched, as she had always been sitting beside a tree—perhaps that one—whenever Zuko had laid eyes on her before in the past. Perhaps that was another thing they held in common: their love of the garden, and nature in general. Granted, it had been a bit awkward to interact with someone so obviously infatuated as Mai had been, if not highly amusing. But perhaps over time they would become even closer friends, and maybe even lovers, one day, if the fates kept up this train of mind.

Laying parallel to the pond's edge, Zuko watched languidly as the tell- tale ripples skimmed across the lake, the faint breeze carrying across the quack of turtle ducks as they approached. Eyes half-closed now, the prince could see the little creatures approaching, but an odd sense of drowsiness had overcome him, and he was asleep before the ducks had reached their destination. The animals tugged at his sleeves, quacking loudly in an attempt to awaken him, but he slept on, weary and sleep-deprived from the past weeks' events. Birds chirped, cicadas droned, and flowers grew as brightly as ever, unaware of the teenage boy sleeping in their midst. Zuko, even in sleep, didn't know when he had last felt so relaxed.


	4. Transient Joy

Hi guys...this chapter is rather eventful, if a bit choppy in the middle, and rushed at the end, but hopefully you guys will like it. Sadly, I think the chapters are shrinking...sorry about that. I'm going to try to be more diligent with this story, but I think I'll limit updates to every other week as it is now.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender or any of it's characters.

Reviews would be appreaciated!

* * *

Zuko found himself back at his familiar place by the pond, lithe arms clutching dark-clothed knees to his chest, chin propped atop the lot, staring out into space.

It had been a few weeks since he had found out the name of his soon-to-be wife, and how the time had seemed to fly. But bliss and enjoyment had nothing to do with the disconcerting sensation he was experiencing. He felt as if he were in a swift current before a waterfall, tossed around and disorientated until not even the most simplistic things made sense, rapidly approaching his final destination, a place he had to wish whatsoever to reach. An odd certainty told him it would destroy life as he knew it, and that things would never be able to return to normalcy once he had passed the turning point. He would never be able to scale the cliff once he had fallen from its edge.

Sighing, he scrubbed wearily at his eyes, as if trying to wake himself from this horrible nightmare he had fallen into, and failing. It wasn't a dream, and there would be no escape, no way to wake up and dispel these horrid happenings. His father had made sure of that.

A faint wave of hatred passed over him, of loathing and anger, though it was brief and far too weak to be of any lasting consequence. He wanted to be infuriated, to be enraged, to despise something, anything that would break him from the deceptive monotony he had so effortlessly succumbed to without the knowledge of his doing so. All he wished for at this moment was to be free from this unwelcome curtain of doom that had draped itself over him, uninvited, to live his last few months as a child with the innocent joviality that had once been so commonplace in his life.

But it had disappeared, the only traces being his fond memories of long ago, when he had been younger, when his mother had still been here. He was a traveler in a foreign land without a map; hopelessly and eternally lost. With no one to ask for directions.

A faint quacking snagged his scattered attention, calling him briefly from his thoughts, as the turtle ducks approached with their ordinary cheerfulness, nipping at the generous fabric of his sleeves, vying for attention and nourishment. Of its own accord, a vacillating smile crept onto his features at the candid vivacity with which they acted.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, stroking the back of the mother duck, patting the heads of each little one in turn, "I forgot to bring something for you today. I'll try to bring something next time…"

"I have some," interjected a feminine voice, seeming for all the world bored with her life. Zuko found the girl kneeling down next to him, crumbling and stripping pieces from the large hunk of bread in her hand, warding off the turtle ducks from their assault on the prince. Oddly enough, she seemed to smile slightly in the doing of this, though it was faint and awkward, as if it had not been used in quite awhile. The ducklings and their mother were happy as well, devouring the food she offered them with much gusto, finishing the lot with in minutes. And then they nudged against the girl's hand, asking for more, but she shook her head, and they left.

"Hello, Mai," Zuko greeted, as the last quacks from the turtle ducks faded into the sounds of late summer, allowing a strange yet occupied silence to settle around them. Mai inclined her head in a return gesture, smiling minutely, a dash of pink speckling her pale cheeks. For awhile they just sat there, in companionable stillness, watching the life moving on all around them. The clouds drifted by languidly overhead, casting vague shadows over the palace gardens when they passed in front of the sun. Cicadas droned purposefully, to the accompaniment of birdsong.

"You…you must really like it here," Mai commented after fifteen minutes or so had passed. Zuko glanced up at her, his expression vacant and thoughtful, as he mulled around these words in his heads. The sentence had been rushed, and nervous, as Mai was still getting over the fact that she was actually talking to her long-time crush, and about to get married to him before the year's end. But her shyness was improving, her demeanor more open and cheerful, at least in comparison to her usual mood.

"I suppose." The answer was clipped and simple, yet somehow far from curt, those words saying all that needed to be said, making further elaboration meaningless.

Something brushed against his hand, and Zuko glanced up. Mai. She had made as if to take his hand, but had withdrawn almost immediately, hesitant. Her cheeks were crimson now. Zuko found himself grinning, much to his surprise, as he enveloped her slightly smaller hand in his own, her blush only deepening at the gesture.

"Relax," he whispered softly, before returning his attention to the pond, a near inaudible sigh escaping his lips. Though not nearly inaudible enough, perhaps, for May picked it up without missing a beat.

"What's wrong?" her voice was filled with such concern, that Zuko would have been rather touched, if his thoughts weren't elsewhere.

"It's nothing." Strictly speaking, the statement wasn't in the least true. But Zuko had never been very quick to confide in others, and he definitely wanted to refrain from giving a long in depth summary of his current thought process if at all possible. Especially considering _who_ it involved…

The younger girl seemed to notice something was amiss, as would anyone else with half a brain would, but she made no further inquires, most likely not wanting to upset her future husband. Yet her hand twitched slightly in the prince's grasp, and her other fidgeted absently with the hem of her dress. Obviously, the subject was bothering her, but as selfish as it made him sound, Zuko couldn't find it in himself to divulge his concerns, even if it would make the girl more at ease.

It wasn't just lack of freedom that was on his mind now. His thoughts had traveled to a more relevant tangent, specifically regarding the girl whose hand he now held. It wasn't that he disliked Mai. By now, he considered her a friend, and at that a rather close one. He just couldn't find it in himself to actually _love_ her in a romantic sense. Maybe with time it would come, but for some reason, he had the oddest feeling that something was the matter.

Without really meaning to, he found the mental image of two magnets in his head, the identical poles aligned, repelling, regardless of how you situated them. You could push, push as hard as you could, and the two ends would meet briefly, and it would work, but there would always be a needed force to hold them together, a reason for them to coexist. Yet if only one magnet could flip, they wouldn't need anything to unite them…

But Zuko found himself and Mai more easily matched to the first scenario, and that was what worried him. Perhaps they weren't incompatible to such an extreme extent, but the rigidity was there nonetheless. Mai was willing to love him, a single magnet ready for the other to attract. If only the firebender could flip himself around…like the magnet. Then everything would be all right. It would all work out perfectly. _Yet…_

"Z-Zuko," the word was spoken so gently, with such care etched into each syllable, every letter of his name. Her hand clenched briefly in his own, and she gazed deeply into his eyes, so similar and yet, so different from her own. "Are you sure you're all right? If there's something bothering you, you can tell me…you can-"

"It's fine," the prince repeated once more, a reassuring smile taking over his features, with such carefully placed content and comforting concern, that it was nearly impossible to see it for what it really was. A fake, a mask put up to hide his true thoughts and feelings from view. And despite the quality and careful effort put into the expression, Mai saw right through it. She had spent too long observing her love's every move, every sentiment, watching his face for clues, learning to at least gain some insight on his thoughts from the way his eyes narrowed or turned glassy, how an emotion would flicker through them, like a hummingbird in full flight. The façade no longer hampered her perception of the prince, and for that she was glad.

But she knew, now, that she had already pried far enough. Once had been enough, an articulation of how she cared, how she wanted to help him. Twice had been for reassurance, hesitant, as she was already entering shaky grounds. But three times. That would be merely heartless and cruel on her part, for not respecting her love's privacy, for pushing him until he would feel guilty not telling her.

Yet as she left, easing herself back onto two feet, brushing the grass from her dress, and slipping her hand cautiously from the prince's now limp grasp, she found her speaking once more. "You and I both know that isn't true Zuko," the confidence her tone startled her slightly, but she pushed on, not yet finished, "I respect that you don't want to talk about it, but please. If you ever want to let me know what's bothering you, you can trust me. I won't tell anything to anyone. I swear. And I'll do the best in my power to help you. Good night, Zuko."

And she left, leaving the prince to glance wonderingly up at the darkening sky, marveling at how late it had gotten. He got to his feet, straightening his robes, before hurrying to dinner. All the while her words ran through his mind, like a broken record, replaying and replaying, a never-ending string of sentiments and ideas, worries and concerns.

* * *

At dinner he found himself rather withdrawn, though it was nothing out of the ordinary. He talked with Iroh, and ate sufficiently, listening to his uncle's deep voice as it carried on about the happenings of today, and adding in a comment or answering a question when it suited him. The hearty tone's soothed him indefinitely, and he listened much more than he talked, absorbing the strength from the words. Weirdly enough, his worries began to dissipate as dinner progressed. A sense of odd placidity with the world overwhelmed him, and for once, in far too long, he felt _happy_. Truly, and completely _happy_. His father's snide telling and put-downs bounced off of him, like a rubber ball off the ground, their impact strangely _absent_ today. Rarely had a dinner passed so nicely.

* * *

"Goodnight, uncle."

"Goodnight, nephew," Iroh watched as his "son" placed one pale hand on the door handle, twining slender fingers around the metal bar, opening the door, and slipping inside without another word. The war veteran could still see the genuine smile on his charge's face, the way his eyes lit up when he talked, how truly happy he seemed to be. It had been so long since he had seen the prince like this. And he nearly felt like crying with the wonder of it all. But tears should be reserved for sad occasions, not one as joyous as this.

He remained a few minutes outside of his nephew's room, thinking of how much better the boy had been lately. So much more open, and pleased with the world. So much more like when his mother had still been here. A brief sadness overtook the general's features, as memories of the sweet women resurfaced, along with his dismay at her death and the strife his nephew had endured. A slight frown came to his face, but he brushed away the thought. Now wasn't the time to think of such things. He should enjoy Zuko's happiness while he could. It wasn't likely to last for much longer. It never did.

* * *

Inside the room, Zuko leisurely prepared himself for sleep, undressing and folding the garments, taking the stiff red ribbon from his hair, placing it on his nightstand, and crawling under the covers. His eyes were heavy with want for sleep, and he found himself drifting off, slowly but surely, the thoughts on his mind far too pleasant to keep him awake, the threat of nightmares forgotten.

He had decided to tell Mai tomorrow. She had wanted to help, hadn't she? And she might very well be able to. Before he had been so hesitant, so untrusting, but now it just made so much sense, so much…

But he had already drifted off. Pale eyelids hid golden eyes from view, midnight hair splayed haphazardly over the satin pillow, the perfect picture of tranquility. Gone were the tensions lurking beneath the skin of his face, a countenance so serene in slumber. It had been far too long since he'd had a goodnight's sleep.

* * *

Much later, Zuko wasn't really able to tell when exactly, the prince found himself wide-awake, sitting up in bed. An odd tingle began to spread down his spine and throughout his limbs. Something was wrong. There was just an overwhelming sense of foreboding lacing the still air, the darkness unbearable, the silence deafening, as he strained to hear something, anything, curious as to what had woken him up. When he heard nothing, he crawled out of bed, pulling on a pair of long pants and a loose tunic, not bothering to grab his shoes from where they lay at the foot of his bed. His hair was messy from sleep but he didn't bother to brush it. Generally, appearance was very important for those of the royal family, but Zuko couldn't find it in himself to care right now. Besides, who would be up at this hour of the night anyway?

Carefully, trying not to make any noise, Zuko eased open his door, slipping into the hallway. The candles had all been put out for the night, an assurance that it was far past midnight. Still, he could hear nothing, and perhaps, that was what unnerved him the most. It was as if the palace were completely empty, apart from himself, and the very thought sent goosebumps down his arms.

Stepping as lightly as possible, he padded swiftly along the corridor, bare feet moving swiftly along the cold marble. For awhile he ran through the familiar passages of his home, though for how long exactly, he wasn't sure. The feeling of unease had begun to dissipate, and his eyelids were growing heavy once more, a reminder of the past sleepless nights. Lighting a minute fire in his palm, Zuko orientated himself in the familiar environment, having grown slightly lost in his wanderings.

Suddenly, something shot out at him. Or rather, some_one_. Another person leapt at him out of the shadows, tackling him to the floor before he could retaliate. Vainly, he struggled against the grasp, thrashing wildly, flames spewing from his fisted palms. One of the tendrils made contact with his attacker, and the man released him, batting frantically at his burning garment.

Swiftly, with fear on his heels, the prince ran down the corridor, back towards his room, anxious to escape these men. Who _were_ these men? Where did they _come_ from? _What_ did they want? These questions and more ran through his head as he fled. _How_ had they gotten in? _Why_ hadn't someone stopped them? What _in the world_ was going on?

He could hear hurried footsteps behind him, but they were muted, their owner's not wanting to alert the entire palace to their presence. Briefly, Zuko considered screaming for help, but the idea was quickly extinguished. His father would have something to say about that. The Prince of the Fire Nation, calling for help like some defenseless brat.

His eyes landed on the door to his room, and he sped inside, locking it securely behind him, leaning against the solid metal, panting heavily. He had escaped. Now, he needed to think of a plan, someway to get rid of…what was that noise? All around him, he could swear he heard the sounds of soft breathing, as if from a number of people…

It was then that he noticed something odd. He could see shadows, obscuring the faint moonlight that permeated the curtains. His blood ran cold. They were in here, they-

Before he could even finish the thought, let alone retaliate against the oncoming assault, one of the shapes pounced on him, as had the one before, pinning him to the ground. His hands were jerked at an unnatural angle, and he gasped as pain flooded through him. He needed to say something, to shout as loudly as he could for assistance. He needed to get away. He need to-

But something solid connected with his head, and his vision began to blur. He desperately fought to retain consciousness. The battle was forsaken from the start, however, though he fought nonetheless valiantly for that knowledge. A gag stifled his attempts to yell for help, and he was vaguely aware of hands, binding his limbs. Fear felt flowed like liquid ice through his veins, and he willed fervently for this to be some new, horrible demented nightmare. But the sensation was far too real, the floor far too solid and unforgiving as he was pinned firmly to it by someone so much larger than him.

No matter how hard he tried to struggle, he couldn't make anyway headway at all. He felt weak as wet noodles, his brain hardly functioning. His vision nearly gone, body weighed down with lead, as insensibility cruelly drowned his resistance. And finally it won out. His kidnappers allowed themselves a small amount of satisfaction, before they high-tailed it out of the palace, the teenage prince in their possession.


	5. Drugged Sleep

I apologize for the lateness, and the bringing of bad news. I think I'm going to have to put this story on temporary hiatus until my midterms are over, which should be in late January/early February. Maybe a little longer. I'm sorry. I've just been so busy lately, with the holidays coming up, as well as my black belt testing. And school isn't being very helpful. I tried not to make this ending too much of a cliff-hanger.

I worked really hard to get this chapter out before the holdiays, though, so enjoy! And Merry Christmas/Happy New Years/Happy Whatever-Other-Holiday-You-Celebrate!

Discliamaer: I do not own Avatar, any of it's characters, or anything related to it.

* * *

Zuko was aware that he was aware when his head began to throb painfully. Thoughts and memories rushed into his mind, muddled, confused, and jumbled together until even the sharpest of minds could no longer decipher them. He ached all over, though most prominently in his head, which now felt ready to explode at any second. Why did he hurt so much?

Ignoring the searing pain that laced his skull, he struggled into a sitting position. He forced his eyes open. Reeling from the agony erupting behind his eyes at the sudden light, he squinted, observing his surroundings. He was in a small room, a window situated on one wall, the narrow cot on which he was sitting flush against the adjacent side. As far as furnishing, not much else was present, besides a small wardrobe of some sort, pressed into the remaining space.

Suddenly feeling sick to his stomach, he curled into a ball, clutching his knees to his chest, urging the bile rising in his throat to desist. Meanwhile, his mind worked frantically, trying to recall the events of last night and piece them together with his current situation.

He had woken up sometime during the night, and gone to check what had awakened him. The halls had been empty except for…those men…and they…suddenly it clicked. He had been kidnapped! Those men must be rebels of some sort, and they had taken him onto a boat…that explained the nausea. The prince wasn't exactly used to the rocking motion of waves beneath him, as he had very rarely been allowed to venture outside the palace.

Slowly, he uncurled, trying not to be sick, as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. A particularly rough wave jerked the ship, and he stumbled, slamming into the opposite wall. Stars danced before his eyes, as he attempted to regain his footing, disorientated by the worsening aches throughout his limbs. Even if he wasn't on a boat, he doubted he'd be able to fair much better. With a stroke of luck, he managed to flop back onto his bed, feeling sick to his stomach from a mixture of seasickness and nausea from the pain.

Once more he curled into a ball, feeling absolutely miserable. Closing his eyes, he vied for sleep, but it would not come to him. Yet, thankfully, the rocking of the ship began to sooth him, rather than upset his stomach, slowly relaxing him, easing him into slumber. Seconds merged into minutes and minutes bled into hours, and Zuko lay there, listless, completely ignoring the world around him. And finally, after a time that could have been hours or days—the Prince was beyond caring—he finally reached the realms of slumber, his pain and queasiness fleeing as he passed through it's gates.

* * *

Awhile later, again Zuko wasn't the best at keeping track of time, especially when asleep, he awoke to the sound of voices nearby. Though wide-awake now, he pretended to remain deep in sleep, ears attentive, listening to the conversation.

"-least he's out of it for now," said one, a male, his voice gruff and laced with hatred, most likely directed at the prince.

"No telling how long he'll stay that way, though," replied a second man, his tone significantly lighter with a suspicious air to it. "By what Hosho says, he should already be awake by now…it makes you wonder-"

"That's just like you, always complaining, even about good things. I say we enjoy it while it lasts, because when the brat gets up, we're in for a hell of a time keeping him under control. The capture squad said he's capable of firebending…and you can bet that will only make things harder for us."

"You're probably right…suppose we should take it easy now, while we don't really have to keep track of him?"

"Yeah, now you're getting it…" And the two voices faded off, as the door opened loudly, and slammed, followed by the click of a set of keys, and screech of rusty gears turning in the lock.

Once he was sure the two men—whoever they were—were out of hearing range, he sat up in bed, looking out the window. Or at least he tried to. Everything was dark, and he could just make out the contents of his cell, lit subtly with the moon's glow from outside. Had he really been asleep that long? What time was it?

The ship was absolutely silent, apart from the waves splashing against the ship and the creak of the metal contracting in the cool air. This led Zuko to two possibilities. One, everyone was asleep, as it was the middle of the night. Or two, he was in such a remote part of the ship that he couldn't hear the signs of life, no doubt taking place elsewhere. He was more inclined to believe the last one, as, unlike in the palace back home, it would be past foolishness to leave the boat unattended, considering that would include the captain and steersman as well.

Leaning against the wall at the head of his coat, Zuko stared blankly at the stretch of metal to the left of the small cupboard. The cupboard…

At a loss for what else to do, the prince got up, made his way over to the aforementioned piece of furniture, and flung open the doors, curious as to what he would find. Nothing. Well, that put a stop to this excursion. Disappointed, he flopped back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling this time.

At least he was feeling better. Though his limbs still ached, and his head still throbbed, the seasickness had completely dissipated and the pain had lessened significantly. Briefly he considered going back to sleep, but he wasn't in the least bit tired. So he lay letting his gaze lose focus, letting his thoughts wonder in an almost meditative way.

How was he going to get out of this? Not only did he have no idea how he was going to escape, but also he had yet to figure out _why_ he had been kidnapped in the first place. And to top it all off, he had absolutely no clue _where_ he was.

Except that he was on a ship of some sort. A small ship judging by the significant motion of the waves, and also Fire Nation, taking into consideration the powerful, fiery aura that always seemed to emit from the black metal of such ships. But that didn't make any sense. Why in the world would his own people have kidnapped him? Had there been a mutiny of some sort, an uprising? Zuko doubted it. Even if his father rarely told him anything about the happenings of his country, he could usually gather enough information by listening carefully, and being attentive to form his own conclusions. And of late, the life had been peaceful and generally content, as far a he could tell, perhaps even more so than usual. It just didn't seem to fit.

Sighing, he scratched absently at a strand of hair tickling his cheek. He was starting to wish he'd taken the time to tie up his hair the previous night, as it was becoming increasingly tangled and annoying. Briefly, Zuko wondered if he could convince one of the guards to give him something to hold up the aggravating mass, but he discarded the idea almost immediately. There was no way that he, Prince of the Fire Nation, would ever _beg_ for a hair tie. No, it was out of the question.

Next he pondered if he could simply cut the stuff shorter, but again, it was out of the question. His topknot signified his ties to his nation, to his country. He would never even consider breaking something that sacred.

A frown graced his fair features and his hand froze, mid-scratch. What was he doing anyway? Laying here, thinking about his _hair_ of all things? Surely, he was already starting to go mad. There were much more important things to do like…he observed the room, unable to finish his thought. So maybe there wasn't anything else to do.

He needed to think of a plan, someway to get out of here, to return to the palace…and then it came to him. Since it was in the middle of the night, or at least close to it, much of the crew would be asleep, allowing him an easier escape route. Not only that, but hadn't the two men from the before conceded how difficult it would be to deal with a firebender? If they were to check in on him again, would they be able to prevent his escape? The prince sincerely hoped not.

It may have been hours or minutes that he sat there, staring into space, but eventually, there was the faint jingle of keys outside the door. Jumping to his feet, Zuko winced as his head protested against the sharp movement, but ignored the pain, dropping into a Firebending stance. Slowly, he inhaled deeply, before exhaling soothingly, though his whole body was rigid with apprehension as the knob turned…

And the first guard came in, a heavyset man with broad shoulders and considerable girth. His eyes grew wide when he saw the Prince awake, but he reacted quickly, lunging forward to tackle the smaller boy to the ground. Quick reflexes, however, allowed Zuko to dodge the initial attack, and counterattack, flames bursting from his fist and rushing towards his elder, just missing as his target evaded.

By this time, the second man had come in, a tall lean one, with a young face, creased with laugh lines. But as he saw his comrade crouching on the floor, breath coming quick, no smile graced his now cold features. A knife was withdrawn from its sheath, and slashed viciously at Zuko. He barely managed to avoid the blow, only to stumble backward towards his other opponent, who sent a quick blow towards his neck, meant to stun him. The fingers just missed their target by an inch or so, and the firebender backed away, quickly, towards the door…

But he was intercepted by a smaller knife, thrown by the taller man, and another attack from the larger blade, which grazed his forearm as he threw it in front of his face. Taking advantage of his momentary blind spot, the shorter man grabbed onto him around the waist, securely pinning his arms to his sides. The prince struggled to get free, though it was a doomed attempt form the start, his captor's strength much greater than his own.

The other water-tribesmen, for Zuko had come to notice the bone from which the weapons were made, and the blue attire of his attackers, wasted no time in retrieving a club from about his person, and sending it down, accurately positioned, on the prince's head. He went limp in the stronger man's arms. Breath still rapid, he placed the boy back on the cot, swiping a hand across his forehead, and glancing at his friend. "That was a close one."

"Yeah," agreed the taller man, sheathing his dagger, and locating the smaller one. He shook his head wordlessly, as he returned it to the pouch at his side.

"It could have been worse. We stopped him from escaping, didn't we?"

"Yeah," the other agreed once more, allowing a small smile to return to it's accustomed place. "Yeah, we did, Runo, we did. Without even getting hurt, I'd say that's about as good as it gets. Didn't seriously hurt him either. Hosho would have been angry otherwise."

Runo thumped the taller man affectionately on the back. "That's right. Now, let's get out of here before he gets up again."

"Well I don't know about you, but I think he'll be out of it for sometime yet. And perfect timing, too. We should be docking at Gaoling soon. We'll finally get to dump this Fire Nation dinghy, and get back on a real ship."

This time, it was Runo's turn to acknowledge. "Yeah."

* * *

When the prince awoke next, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. No longer was he in the small Fire Nation ship he remembered, but rather, in a larger one, no doubt Water Tribe by the looks of it. The walls were wood, no windows to speak of and no furniture whatsoever. His mind backtracked. Wood. An idea came to him. Gathering his strength, he got to his feet, and condensed all of his power into his fist, readying himself, aiming and…

Nothing. Frowning, he glared at his hand, gathering energy releasing it. Again, nothing happened. He tried the other hand. Nothing. Again. Nothing. Again. Nothing. He grew frustrated, all caution and restraint gone as he threw his whole into each attack, not even managing the smallest of sparks. Desperation tricked his wearied body into motion, forcing his tired limbs into action, despite their painful protests. And still nothing.

What in the world was going on? He had never felt so empty, so cold, so completely helpless, the bending which was so a part of him…gone. Sitting down on the pile of furs from which he had awoken, he tried to calm himself, slowing his breathing as best he could, trying to think straight.

Had they drugged him? It seemed the only logical explanation. And it made sense, unlike so much at this time. They no doubt wanted to ensure that he wouldn't escape…or rather _couldn't_. Perhaps they had done it when they moved him to this new ship. They hadn't wanted him to burn his way out.

Shivering, he pulled one of the furs around him, curling himself up to try and stay warm. He couldn't remember ever being this cold. It was as if his body had been hallowed out and left an empty, broken shell, incapable of retaining heat.

But conditions, he knew, would only worsen. Zuko was not stupid, despite what his father might say, and the only logical place for these Water Tribe kidnappers to take him would be one of the poles. Another chill ran down his spine at the thought. Either Arctic or Antarctic, could mean certain death for him. Or at least extreme discomfort. Firebenders were naturally weakened by cold, able to maintain a steady, safe internal temperature only through their bending powers. And now that he was without those he would be in for a very rough time.

The fur was helping though, his body heat warming the interior of the skin, an excellent insulator from the frigid air. He must hope his captors would be kind enough to allow him one of these when they reached their destination. Wherever that was.

Anger ran through his veins, and he grit his teeth. He hated having to depend on the enemy for his survival. It was weak, and even treasonous to some extent, to accept help from the enemy. But he had no choice. It was either that, or die. _Though_, he thought sardonically, _death might be preferable to father's wrath_. When and if he was rescued, he would most certainly be punished.

It was then that he heard the familiar noise of keys turning in a lock, and he was on his feet in minutes, nearly yelping as the cold surrounded him. But he was ready this time. He would escape, with or without his bending. The taller guard came in first this time, and Zuko recognized him, rushing to attack. Viciously, he kicked and clawed at the man, but it wasn't long before he found himself pinned to the wall, utterly powerless. He struggled, limbs thrashing violently to no avail. The drug and cold were a deadly team, working against him to leave him weaker than he had imagined possible.

When he was no longer deemed a threat, his captor released him, letting him slide to the floor with a dull thump. He made as if to lunge once more, but his legs were weak, and he collapsed almost immediately. The shorter man shook his head, almost pityingly, though with an undertone of mocking, as he placed a bowl filled with a stew of some sort on the ground beside him.

An audible rumble arose from Zuko's stomach and he seethed with self-hate. He would have leapt for the food, and downed it in seconds, had he not felt that he should retain what little dignity he had left. Instead, he eased himself into a sitting position, glaring up at the two men. "Where are we?"

"Nearing the North Pole," explained the taller man, and he would have recognized the light airy voice, had his thoughts not been elsewhere. _The North Pole? How long was I out of it?_

As if reading his thoughts, the other man stepped forward, his gruff voice also recognizable. "You were out for a few weeks at least. Perhaps longer." There was something curt and angry about the man's tone, but Zuko wasn't particularly surprised, nor did he really care at moment.

Out of things to say, and feeling rather faint with hunger, he began eating the soup, sipping from the rim, making sure to keep at a steady pace. It would not do to show anymore weakness than he already had in front of these people.

* * *

Runo glared at the boy, loathing fairly radiating off of him. The only things keeping him from strangling the boy there and then were his captain's orders, and his conscience's instance that this boy should not be blamed for the deeds of his father. Koento, his tall comrade, was fairing much better. But then again, he always had been a much kinder and accepting soul, much more eager to make friends than enemies.

Frowning, he beckoned for his friend to come, and they both left, locking the door behind them. A relieved sigh emitted from Runo's mouth, and he found the anger slipping away. Koento glanced at him questioningly, but he shook his head, signaling a no. He really should talk to Hosho, and ask for a job change. He wasn't sure how much longer he could control his hatred toward the prisoner.


	6. Time Passes

Yes...it's March...and not even early March. At least not really...-hides- Don't kill me!

Sorry, guys. I honestly intended to update earlier than this, but I have my reasons for being late. First of all, our school is being stupid and making us do practice CAPT's so I've been busy with doing all the studying for that, and extra homework and stuff. Second, my history teacher has been assigning notes like mad, as much as eleven pages (tiny tiny type) per night. Third, my little sister has insisted on playing Sims, every moment that I'm about to start work on this. And I'm too much of a softy to say no . And lastly, though perhaps most importantly, a lot has been going on with me, emotionally so I've been really busy trying to get that whole mess straightened out, and just haven't found the time or motivation to write.

Again sorry, and this chapter isn't exactly my favorite. Scratch that. I hate this chapter. It's pretty much just filler, and short to boot. But...I'm overdue as it is, so you guys will have to deal with it anyway. Try to enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar or any of it's characters.

* * *

Days passed as did weeks, and the ship made its steady way toward the North Pole. All sense of time had deserted the prince, leaving him disorientated and sullen. Unable to distinguish between night and day, he slept near constantly. Or, at least, as often as he could. It was growing harder and harder to do so, the weather growing ever more frigid as they neared their destination. _The North Pole_. A tremor of disbelief ran through Zuko's mind and body alike as he voiced the name in his thoughts. _How can this be happening? Father's going to kill me..._

The Northern Water Tribe had grown to be the Fire Nation's largest enemy. Naturally, the two elements were opposed, setting them at odds before the war even began. However, despite what the arrogant people of the Fire Nation thought, it had been difficult to defeat the small village. Doable and quite easily possible, but trying nonetheless. Nonstop ships had made the voyage down to the South Pole, bringing more and more reinforcements to capture the benders and place them in prison camps. While there were few benders, even to start off with, they were skilled beyond imagination, each a veritable master of their element. Fire usually had the advantage, simply because the element wasn't exhaustible. They utilized the fire inside their being, the flames within, as he remembered Iroh naming them. Yet, completely surrounded by ice and snow, their foes were unstoppable. Or at least nearly. After all, they had won out in the end.

_But_...Zuko winced at the thought. It was a mere peasant's village in comparison to it's Northern counterpart. While he had never been there himself, he knew quite well of their flawless defenses. Several times, his father had sent entire legions of ships to defeat them. And every time they had returned in ruins, with embarrasing tales of their losses. The best triumph had been making a steaming hole in the immense icy wall surrounding the Arctic fortress. While that in itself was no big deal, the effort had been a great improvement upon previous attempts. But then the water benders had gained a new confidence, and the victory was lost, their men retreating as best they could under the vicious blows.

_So,_ Zuko mused wryly to himself, summing up the significance of these facts. _I'm going to forever be a prisoner of the Northern Water Tribe._

* * *

Iroh sat at Zuko's favorite place by the pond, staring glumly at the stagnant water. While the blistering days of summer had passed, the "refreshing" days of fall were far from cool. Flowers still bloomed, and the trees maintained their leaves, as they would year round, the volcanic land of the Fire Nation so near the equator that trees never sought to hibernate. 

_Zuko will be seeing snow for the first time_, mused Iroh despondently, stroking the stem and petals of a lily with numb fingers. His nephew's whereabouts had been discovered quite by accident.

Apparently, a bar-owner had became fed up with two of the palace guards for "disturbing the peace and creating mayhem" every night. He had come to the palace with a complaint, hoping to get the two into some sort of trouble. Iroh, in the room, had noticed Ozai's agitation. The way he ran his slim fingers through his midnight hair, a habit he had picked up form his wife. A smile came to Iroh's face as this thought occurred but he masked it, not wanting to invoke his little brother's rage, should the Fire Lord question the grin.

At that point, Iroh had returned his interest to the bar-owner's negotiation. "-overheard part of their conversation, once. Said something about helping water rats into your palace, lord. Your palace...I couldn't believe my ears, the traitorous scum! I decided I couldn't put up with them any longer, so...here I am your majesty." He glanced up at the end of his tale, head bowed in respect of the Fire Lord.

Ozai seemed to be mulling over the information, truly considering the man's words, a rarity in and of itself as far as Iroh was concerned. After a long pause, he stroked his pointed black beard, inquiring, "water rats, you said? Tell me...why would he have any interest in setting common pests upon my home?" There was a dangerous tone to the words, both Iroh and the bar-owner could hear it.

For a second, the man didn't seem to know what to say, glancing from his lord's feet to his own and back, eyes ever trained downward. But then he regained his composure. "Excuse me, lord," his voice was shaky with fear, "water rat is a slang term we commoners use...meaning water folk, sir. I am sorry for the indecent language. I spoke without thinking and..." He continued on, digging himself deeper and deeper into a hole.

But for once, Ozai didn't seem to be listening to the pitiful ranting of his subject, golden eyes misted with thought. Iroh himself had already worked it out, his blood running cold as understanding dawned on him. Two and two could only lead to four, no matter how one much might wish there were another answer. Zuko had been kidnapped by water tribesmen, no doubt of the North Pole, as their southern sister tribe had been annihilated to near completion only years before hand. If Zuko had been taken to the North Pole, they might never get him back.

Iroh was vaguely aware of Ozai dismissing the bar-owner, after promising he would certainly "look into matters". Even to this point, he was still numb with disbelief, or rather, denial, not wanting to believe that his dear nephew had been taken to the one place he might never be able to bring him back from.

* * *

Runo made his way below deck, a bundle of clothing beneath his arm. Under Hosho's orders he had searched out some warmer clothing for their captive. He supposed there was some sense to this action. The prince's attire, for all its finery, was thin, and not made for the frigid climate of the north. Added to his lack of bending induced by the drug, and the coldness that he knew would result from such a thing, the boy must be absolutely freezing...but Runo couldn't help but find fault with the order. Why shouldn't they just let the boy suffer, suffer for all the suffering his country had caused? It seemed only fair. 

He shook his head, brushing dark hair out of his eyes. No. The prince shouldn't be blamed for his father's evil deeds. There was no reason to believe he had ever even done anything remotely vile. But...there was always the "but". There shouldn't be...Runo shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. "_Innocent until proven guilty_," Hosho had told him. "_Just give him a chance. Unless he acts otherwise, just assume he's a good kid, just like any of our own. He's on the other side, I understand, but we need to treat him with respect. He's not our enemy...his nation is_."

Having reached the door to the prince's cell, he took a deep breath, one last attempt to compose himself, before he opened the door. As luck would have it, the boy was awake, glaring at him with such intensity that he nearly feared the dark-haired child could bend flames through his eyes, despite its impossibility and the effects of the drug. Frowning, Runo met the boy's eyes, unfazed, "What's with the look, boy? Something wrong?"

The statement oddly enough seemed to catch the prince off guard, surprisingly, his golden eyes dilating slightly and his harsh stare evaporating. Dropping his gaze to the floor, he gritted out, "you kidnapped me, you took me away from my nation and my family...and my uncle...of course something is wrong!"

Runo's scowl lifted if only minutely, as he realized the truth behind his captive's words. But..."Then be angry at your father, at your stupid grandfather for starting this damned war, for not thinking about the suffering it would cause."

"No." There was so much steel and defiance embedded in that one word, it seemed to emit the emotions as it hung on the air, silence passing between the two.

"Fine," the older man replied, feeling the need to leave as his anger began to boil. "I brought you some warmer clothes, brat, though you don't really deserve them, do you?" Tossing the previously mentioned items to the ground, Runo made for the door, closing it behind him with a final click, the sound of a key turning in a lock following shortly after.

Stupid kid. He really get a job switch with someone else. Or just have Koento do the solo jobs...and spend as much time away from the whelp as possible. It was ridiculous really, how his temper was getting to be so uncontrollable. He had never been a mild man, but this was just beyond anything he had ever felt before. And the brat being rude and moody to boot. Slowly, his made his way towards Hosho's quarters, needing someone to discuss this with, and needing a solution.

* * *

Slowly, carefully, Zuko attempted to get to his feet, stumbling as he lost his balance, bracing himself against the wall. He had never expected the effect of the drugs to be so great. His legs felt like jelly beneath him, the rocking of the boat doing nothing to help his effort. Though the nausea had subsided, he still felt sick. Sick with himself for being so weak.

Gradually, he made his way over to where the guard had left the garments, unfolding them and observing the clothing. A thick coat of some sort met his gaze, deep blue in color, with matching pants of the same thick material. Nowhere near as ornate as his own attire, but Zuko couldn't find it in himself to care as another tremor ran through his body. Shivering, he took off the thin robe, pulling on the pants and jacket over his sleepwear, before wrapping the robe around himself, like a blanket.

The warmth was immediate, only increasing as his body heat saturated the surrounding fabric, warming him straight to the core. Content, he pulled the makeshift blanket over his head as well, his icy cheeks burning with warmth. The heat of his homeland had quickly been forgotten as he shivered on his lonesome, wishing he were back at home, preferring burning warmth over frigid ice any day. But now...he felt more relaxed than he had in days, despite his predicament. Minutes passed, not mattering anymore, the comfort was so great, and eventually his eyes began to flicker shut, gold eyes growing lazy, until finally they shut, allowing him drift off into the realm of sleep.

* * *

"Come in!" Runo opened the door instantly after the response, his eyes falling on Hosho, the leader of their expedition. Though he was by no means an old man, he was no longer young either. Lines carved his face, and, though not extremely deep, they were perhaps deeper than they should rightfully be. Dark hair cascaded down his back, the usual water tribe hair bands and clips nestled among it. Sharp blue eyes stared out at him, compassionate and understanding, but firm and commanding at the same time. "Hello, Runo. What seems to be the matter?" 

The previously mentioned man frowned slightly, sitting down on the polar fur rung next to Hosho when given an indicative gesture by said man. Abesently, he ran his hand through the white fuzz, mulling over his next move. Runo knew that the other knew the answer to the question perfectly well, and Hosho knew that he knew he did. Nonetheless, he answered, looking up into those intense marine eyes, so common, yet so rare among their people. "It's about that boy, sir. I know you said to just treat him respectfully, to not punish him for his father's actions. To treat him as one of our own. But I can't do that. He's such a brat and he's with the Fire Nation! Even if you say he's not an enemy, so what? How can we ever let him go once he's been into our fortress, through those gates that have kept his kind out for a century. He'll know too much, he'll-"

"Runo, relax," Hosho held up a hand placatingly, palm outward, cutting him off. "I see what you are trying to say. However, we have already figured this out. The boy will be blind-folded upon entrance to the city, and we will remove it once he is in his cell. That way, the most he'll know of our defenses and the like will be the walls, floor, and door of that chamber. As for his behavior, you have to remember that he is only a child, and he has been through a lot recently. Taken from his family and the world he grew up in...most children would react in the same way. But you seem to have trouble dealing with his rudeness. Perhaps it would be better if we let you take a break from that job...as you are obviously having some...inabilities with the assignment."

Runo bristled at the last few statements, despite its joking tone. Immediately, a wave of shame overcame him. This was absurd. The kid was just a kid after all...and wasn't this giving the brat what he wanted? Over-reacting to the point at which he needed a job change. "No," the steel in his voice surprised even himself, as the words sprang unbidden to his lips, "you gave Koento and I the assignment of watching over our captive. What type of warrior am I if I can't follow through with that? What type of man questions orders from his leader. No...I'll keep the job. Thank you Hosho...for all the advice."

"Anytime, friend," returned the other man, inclining his head politely, as he shook the other's hand heartily, "I'm glad I could be of service. But if at anytime you ever do decide you need to switch assignments, just let me know, alright?"

"Alright," repeated Runo, just loud enough for Hosho to hear, offering a gruff smile as he left, door swinging shut behind him.


	7. Destination Reached

That was a longer wait than last time wasn't it? -head desk- I am so unbelievably sorry, honestly, guys. I have just been so utterly screwed these past few months. School was draining my soul, finals were taking place, and then my parents decided to drag me along to all these family reunions and parties for people I don't even know. Not to mention all the personal issues I'm experiencing. As well as the fact that I managed to contract writer's block somewhere along the line. And I have crap loads of summer work...it's not even funny.

I've been surviving on 3-4 hours of sleep a night if that, making myself sick on coffee just to function, all while my parents complain that I don't get up at 7 like I used to. And then every time I sit down to work on this, my sister asks if we can do something (watch anime, play sims, etc) and I can't say no.

Ok...now that that rant is out of the way, here's the long awaited Chapter 7 which I really don't like but I'm over due enough already, so you guys will have to just deal with it. Sorry. Try to enjoy. I'm not sure how this came out with my mental state as is. Again...I'm really sorry it took so long. For a shortish chapter too D: I will try my best to get the next chapter out sooner than the last one...I know I said this last time, but I will this time. Really.

Disclaimer: I do not nor will I ever own Avatar, but maybe it's better that way? It would just add to my work load getting all those episodes out.

PS: Does anyone know what's Yue's father's (Northern Water tribe Leader's) name is? Was it ever mentioned? I'd really like to know for future reference...

* * *

For the remainder of the journey, Zuko was hardly aware of anything. Having grown accustomed to the rocking of the ship, he now felt lulled by the movement and that, in combination with the new found warmth of the clothes his captors had provided for him, allowed him to remain in a state of half meditation for the most part. Only when the pains of hunger reached him, did he emerge from his cocoon, eating the meal left for him at a measured pace, making sure to chew though by no means savoring the food. The new outfit had taken the chilled bladed edge from this northern weather, though it was still cold by his standards. That being said, once the meal had been finished, his mind waking to completion for the needed time, he retreated to his nest, entering his perpetual hibernation once more.

This cycle continued on for about a week, at which point it was interrupted by the grit of wood hulling against ice. Or at least that was what Zuko imagined the entire vibration of the ship and scraping noise to be. Meaning they had docked. Meaning they had reached their destination. Meaning he was screwed, because their was no way he would ever escape from the Northern Water Tribe, as much as he wanted to believed and possibly delude himself into thinking there was. Sighing, he poked his head out from underneath the makeshift blanket, scanning the room. Still empty. Good. Stretching he got to his feet, fastening the robe around him as he normally would, running his fingers through his hair, attempting to make himself presentable. He was the prince of his country, after all; his appearance was a reflection of his country. And he loved his country. He wanted to make a good impression.

Just as the last tangle in his hair came undone, and he smoothed down the now frizzy mass, the door opened, revealing Koento and Runo, the guards that had been assigned to him during the trip. Surprise was evident on both their faces, obviously having expected him to still be asleep. But they shrugged it off, Koento taking a piece of cloth from his pocket, Runo moving to hold the prince's limbs in case of another attempt at resistance. But Zuko wasn't in the mood for it. Escaping was both pointless and hopeless. Even if by some miracle he did escape, where in Agni's name would he go? He couldn't swim back to the Fire Nation, now could he? And so the blindfold was tied about his eyes, completely blocking out his vision. The hands did not leave his wrists, though he felt Koento taking hold of one arm, as Bruno maintained his hold on the other.

It was in this way that Zuko reached the upper deck, unable to restrain a gasp of shock as the Arctic wind hit him full force. From Koento's side came a hand, tugging up the hood of his parka which Zuko had failed to notice until this point. The chill subsided a bit, though it was still freezing, even through the thick material. Zuko could here voices beside him, one unfamiliar, one Runo's. They were talking about something, but it was nothing important from what he could gather, the wind marking most of it unintelligible.

And then they were moving again, the third person walking along with them, keeping up a constant chatter with Runo, Koento joining in as they progressed. Zuko stumbled blindly along, feet clumsy after so many days of lazing around. The grasps on his wrists were more guiding than restraining. As much as he hated to admit it, without them, he would be beyond lost in this foreign land, his sight gone, his bending useless and the ever present ice seeping into his bones. He and his people weren't made for this climate, and Zuko, having never been away from his homeland, was finding it little above unbearable.

Although his own were covered, Zuko could feel the eyes of others upon him, no doubt the people of the village. Or city, he reminded himself. Judging from what he had heard, the Northern Water Tribe's population was so great, far too great to rightfully be called a village. But either way, they were staring at him, watching him, and he wished he could tell what emotion it was that sent a shiver down his spine. What emotion were so strongly emanating from their glares.

The trip became monotonous, minutes blending into each other without distinction. Zuko was aware only of the incessant icy breeze, his numb legs stumbling step after step, feet unsure, lost, and confused. Much how he felt in the moment...traversing among a sea of unseen persons, unknowing of where they were taking him. To his death? No...it would have been useless to take him this far if they merely intended to kill him. But perhaps they would interrogate and then kill him? He stopped the train of thought. Worrying and coming up with make believe scenarios would in no way help him. In fact, it would only make things worse if he were nervous. What he needed was to remain calm and take things as they came his way. One at a time, without unnecessary complications. Just relax...

His escorts came to a halt, and he stumbled, caught off guard by the sudden pause. Iron squelched against frozen turf, an odd combination to his ears. And then they were moving again, into a room of some sort. Zuko could feel the change in texture beneath his feet, despite their frigid numbness. How dearly he wished he had thought to wear his shoes that fateful night when he had made the foolish mistake of leaving his bedroom. Although they would have been soaked through by this point from the snow outside, at least they would have provided some barrier between himself and the colder than ice flooring they now stood on. It appeared to be a metal of some kind, that Zuko was sure of, though he could tell no more with the blindfold in place.

Another creak of iron, and he felt himself suddenly propelled forward. He stumbled over his feelingless toes, arms locking out to break his fall. His hands felt bruised from the harsh contact, but he couldn't find it in himself to care as he quickly searched for the knot tying the cloth across his eyes. When no one made a move to stop him, he eagerly fumbled with the holding, letting the blindfold fall away as he finished.

They were in a cell of some sort. That much was obvious. The walls, floor, and door all seemed to be made of the same steel-like material, a deep gray in color. A narrow, rectangular window at the top of the adjacent wall was the only source of light, allowing a thin stream to illuminate the prison. Koento and Runo stood outside the bars, watching him with two such very different expressions. The taller man's was one of pity and remorse, regret that all these ill-happenings should have to fall on the young prince. A relieved triumphant smirk was the stouter man's, his eyes displaying not even the slightest amount of sympathy for the teenager's predicament. Frowning, Zuko got to his feet, standing up straight, head held high, trying his best to look fierce and resilient to the misfortunes surrounding him.

Runo looked as if he were about to laugh. His eyes crinkled and his grin widened, showing less than perfect teeth. He turned to leave then, small chuckles now escaping him, as Koento followed, casting a last mournful glance towards the imprisoned boy. The disgust in the lanky guard's expression as he turned towards his shorter comrade was clear, despite their distance. And it made Zuko feel a little better at least, to know that not all his captors were horrid brutal people.

As the heavy metal door closed behind them, Zuko allowed himself to relax and let the shivers from the icy temperature run free. He removed the cloak from around his shoulders, folding it up and sitting down on the makeshift cushion. Even the numerous layers of the material could not provide much of a barrier between himself and the frigid iron floor, but he wrapped his bare feet in the foremost folds of the covering, despite how useless and glacial the silk felt beneath his touch. Perhaps it would warm up with time? But his toes were already starting to burn, and so he sat down , feet on top of his crossed legs rather than pressing to the hard surface beneath, pressing his sleeves against the soon to be ice cubes.

Previously, he had thought the ship cold, but only now did he realize that room must be warm, maybe even hot by comparison. The wood had been soft and forgiving in relation to this frosty imperious steel. And the lack of windows was a small price to pay for such a greater warmth. Truly, one never realized what they had until they lost it. He had taken the heat of his homeland for granted, assuming he would always be in the pleasantly sweltering land of fire, surrounded by the luxury of the palace, and with his dear uncle's company. A lump rose in his throat as he thought of the elder man, his advice and wisdom always true and absolutely genius, even if it was hardly ever delivered in a direct manner. The way he stood up for Zuko and did his best to protect him from his harsh father, and overall cared for him, as he had cared for his own deceased son. As Fire Lord Ozai would never care for Zuko.

His thoughts were interupted by the unnerving sound of ice and snow against metal, the conflict of the natural and man-made. The first man to enter had such an air of confidence and power that Zuko immeadiately knew who he was. The head of the remaining benders of the opposite element, who had kept the Water Tribe thriving for so long and organized their defenses so well. Perhaps one of the only men that Ozai feared. A brave, clever man who had outwitted the Fire Nation on so many occasions, sending their troops home in reprimanding defeat after each fruitless attempt at conquering the icy fortress. The leader of the Northern Water Tribe. He stood before Zuko now, looking not much older than his own father, a few guards with him just for precaution, as well as a girl. From her elaborate hair style and dress, he assumed she was the leader's daughter. He couldn't help but wonder why she had tagged along. Weren't women supposed to be forbidden from matters of war and politics? This encounter most certainly fell under one of the two categories, if not both. So why was she here?

Frowning in thought, the prince sat up straighter, head held high, trying to appear as dignified and strong as possible given the circumstances. And the Water Nation's leader smiled, in almost a patronizing, yet friendly manner at this effort. As if he found Zuko's determination to procure a great image for the Fire Nation sweet and amusing. The expression irked Zuko to no end. Iroh had given him such a similar expression from time to time, and even that had gotten on his nerves to some degree. But to receive such a reaction from an enemy, from someone he was supposed to hate? That was infuriating.

"I'm sorry," were the first words out of the man's mouth. Again, anger surged through the prince's veins; he didn't want apologizes form the enemy especially in such a tone. "We have to do this you see, because your bending would be such a threat if we left it uncontrolled. I wish we could have negotiated things more peaceably, but I fear this is the only way. We're going to keep you hostage until your father officially ends this idiotic war. The killing must be stopped." The expectant gaze only worsened Zuko's temper, and he kept silent, if only to spite the man. A sigh was now his response, letting his eyelids briefly cover his deep blue irises as if in mild exasperation. With those parting words, he made to leave, not even glancing over his shoulder at Zuko as he exited.

The prince could honestly not have cared any less if the man paid attention to him or not. It was his fault he had been taken from his home, entirely his fault that he had been subjected to this arctic punishment, a form of torture in and of itself. He only hoped they would not make any moves to question him about his nation. Already he was nearing the breaking point, merely from existing in this climate without his bending. If they subjected him to any more torture in an attempt to get him to leak information, Zuko had no idea how long he would be able to last.

It was then that he noticed the girl had hesitated behind. She was staring at him oddly, her large blue eyes wide with curiosity, her stark white hair such a contrast to the dark mahogany skin. For the life of him, he couldn't tell what she was thinking. She seemed caught between speaking to him and sprinting out the door as fast as her legs could carry her. Wouldn't her father notice her absence? Wouldn't he be upset that she had stayed behind without his permission? Finally, common sense appeared to overcome her, and she scurried out the door. Perplexed at the strange behaviour, Zuko settled down to ponder what it could mean. It was a much easier topic than his death or what would happen to him, after all. And he relished that.


	8. Kindness and Curiosity

Much quicker than the last one, ne? I'm glad I could actually keep my promise this time. I don't know when I'll be able to get the next chapter up, as I need to write it first, of course, and I'll be gone on holiday from the 12th to 20th of August. I'll try to at least make a start on the chapter beforehand, but don't expect anything. School starts the 27th for me I believe, so I'll try to get the next chapter up before then, but again, no guarantees. I'll try not to make you guys wait another five months though...twice is enough for one story.

Anyways, my stomach is eating itself, so I better go eat something. Please enjoy it I actually like this chapter, though the characters seem a bit out of character...but whatever. Longer chapter. Have fun.

Disclaimer: I do not Avatar or any of its characters.

* * *

The moon shone down upon the ice, turning the otherwise dim landscape awash with silver radiance and sparkles as far as the eye could see. An arctic breezed flowed through the city, softer than it had been in a long time. Clouds had disappeared from the sky, leaving it a clear and very dark shade of blue, not even the glittering pins of light, known as stars, embedded in its interior making any impact against the near black shade.

It was nights like these that Yue enjoyed most, though she loved any night (or day) in her home here with all her heart. She was proud of the beautiful city her father ruled, and all its talented inhabitants. While generally calm for such a large city, there was always excitement to be sought if one were keen enough to look for it. Shows put on by Master Pakkun and his students, new people to converse with whenever she could find the chance, strolling through the fantastic icy streets, lit up even during the day with the sun's radiance. She was blessed to live the life she did in this wonderful place, this wonderful nation, with its fearless benders and warriors, fantastic scenery, and thorough prosperity.

Sighing, she rested her gloved palms on the bridge's edge, gazing into the reflective water as her thoughts turned elsewhere. The boy she had seen in the dungeon today. The _Prince _of The Fire Nation. A shudder that had nothing to do with the frigid temperature ran down the length of her arms, raising goosebumps as she realized how close she had come to such an important enemy. But she had asked her father's permission to accompany him on his way to meet their prisoner, curious about the strange boy she had seen being taken through the streets. He _had_ been opposed to the idea, yet that had done nothing to staunch her curiosity. Not even the boy's cold and hostile expression had managed to accomplish that.

There was something so intriguing about the boy. A foreigner in the rather secluded kingdom of the north. Something utterly and bizarrely different about him that had caught her curiosity and drew it in faster than she could blink. Was this because he was of Fire, her opposed element? Was this because he came from a nation of assailants rather than a nation of defendants? Was this because he was a boy and she was a girl? The water was so still beneath her gaze that it could have been solid, such a contrast to her churning thoughts.

She wanted to see him again. Of that she was sure. She wanted to visit him in his frigid cage of steel and learn more about him, discover why he affected her the way he did. Why he was who he was, and how he had become that way. Yue, Princess of the Northern Water Tribe, wanted to befriend Zuko, Prince of the Fire Nation. What an odd notion, but true nonetheless. Fearing the sun would rise before she reached her destination, Yue made her leave, heading down the icy steps and leaving the bridge behind. It took only minutes to reach the prisoner's location, such was the speed of her gait.

Taking a deep breath in preparation, she placed both covered hands flat on the door, applying pressure. The resulting squeak sent a tremor through her heart, nerves causing it to race faster than it had in a long time. As quietly as possible, she slipped through, easing the door shut behind her. Yue paused several seconds, allowing her azure eyes to adjust to the change in light as she gathered her surroundings. Suddenly, she was very glad that bars separated her from the firebender in this gloom. If he were to attack her right now, as she stood, nearly blind, she would stand no chance whatsoever. The thought made another chill run down her spine as her heart sped faster.

By the thin stream of moonlight trailing in through the rectangular window, she could just make out the huddled form of the prince. Asleep. Her pulse slowed slightly, though she could still feel the blood pounding inside her chest.

He looked so peaceful in slumber, the terrifying glare of before gone without a trace. Black shoulder-length hair framed his too pale skin, and even from this distance she could tell he was shivering, despite his numerous wrappings. But of course he would be. The climate of his home was the exact opposite of the frigid north. And he didn't even have his bending to keep himself warm. A twinge of sympathy stabbed through her, as she watched the suddenly melancholic sight, wishing she could do something to help. Maybe she could ask for another blanket, though she had to wonder if more blankets would even help at this point. They didn't provide heat, merely enclosed it and kept it from escaping. And the poor soul looked frozen to the core. How could he provide any warmth?

Sighing, she sat down with her back against the wall adjacent to the bars, titling her head to watch the prince. His position remained unchanged, only slight twitches obscuring his features every now and again. He was probably dreaming, she conjectured. Or maybe it was some reaction to being so very cold. She wouldn't know; it was highly doubtful that she had ever been as cold as the prince now looked.

Minutes passed, eventually bleeding into an hour and then two. She knew she should be going, that the sun would be up in a matter of minutes and her father would discover her absence. Though he had not forbidden her from visiting the prisoner, something told Yue that he would not be pleased with her actions. Besides, she should be bored by now, tired of just sitting there and watching the same thing, over and over. Like a very short play acted out again and again, the actors and plot never changing. But it was as if she found each and every performance intriguing despite the monotony. Never boring, never predictable, never ordinary, even though it very well should be.

The sun's first rays were leaking in through the small window now, a warmer color than the beams of moonlight. And then the prince began to stir, moving more than he had throughout the night, his eyes scrunching up against the sunlight. In a matter of seconds they would be open. A sudden panic over came the girl and without another thought she fled from the room, back to own, not pausing in her sprint until she was back beneath her own covers. Weariness over came her, and she fell to sleep quickly, aware that around her the water tribe was awakening.

* * *

Was he hallucinating? Zuko could have sworn he'd seen that girl from yesterday. The one with hair the color of snow, such an odd occurrence among the water people. The chief's daughter. The Princess. Had she been in here just now, sitting against the wall, looking at him? He had thought so, but then again he had just woken. Maybe the remnants of sleep were playing tricks on his eyes, making him imagine things as one often did while in between sleep and the waking world. The illusion had looked so real but she had gone so quickly. He couldn't be sure.

Discarding that train of thought he looked around his cell, rubbing his still blurry eyes. Empty. And freezing. He wormed back into the cover of the single blanket the guards had given him the previous night. It wasn't enough. Zuko couldn't recall the last time he had felt this cold. The last traces of sleep finally receding, he could now feel how numb most of his body was. And with the flood of feeling, came his thoughts from the previous day. How his death(by torture or other means) was quickly approaching, how there was no way he could get out of this. How his father wouldn't care. How his uncle would be crushed. How his sister would laugh. He was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it. Even his mind became numb at that.

* * *

"Father?" Cheif Arnook glanced up from the papers on his desk at the sound of his daughter's voice. She was standing before him, looking faintly sleepy and even a bit nervous if his eyes weren't deceiving him. That was odd. He and his daughter had always been on good terms, without the usual drama that often arose between teenagers and their parents. He wondered what could be causing the slight hesitation.

"Yes, Yue?" he replied, meeting her eyes with his own azure ones, giving her his best warm smile in an attempt to ease her agitation. "Is there something you wanted to talk to me about...?"

"Yes..." she paused, fiddling slightly with the edge of her sleeve, before glancing back up at him, as if trying to gauge how he would respond to whatever she had to say. Arnook waited patiently, allowing his daughter his undivided attention as she put together her thoughts. "Last night I was thinking about the...Fire Nation Prince, and I was thinking of how cold he must be. Not having his firebending to warm himself, in a climate so much colder than his own. Perhaps we should give him some more blankets, or something. Place of origins aside, it's not right to make anyone suffer like that."

Her father's gaze melted into on of understanding, and he nodded, agreeing with the request. "I'll make arrangements for someone to bring him something right away," he promised, getting up from his desk to embrace his daughter.

"You remind me more and more of your mother each day," he complimented, voice soft with sadness at the memories of his deceased wife. "She always had compassion and sympathy for everyone, even enemies. The man you marry will be a lucky man indeed." Arnook pulled away, and Yue could see the glimmer of tears that reached his eyes. Smiling back, she nodded in thanks for the kind words and in understanding of his mourning for her lost mother, who she herself had never really known. The Water Tribe Princess said her goodbyes, and made her way out of her father's office, her nerves once again at ease.

The palace was bustling with life as she made her way through it. Servants, cooks, healers, warriors, and all manner of people rushed through its interior as they went about their daily work. It was amazing to see so many people. Each with their different lives, hopes, dreams, thoughts, family, and errands to complete. Thousands upon thousands, and still that magnitude was nothing against the billions of people in the world. It astounded her to think of that, how vast the world must be to house and accommodate so many. She thought of all the interesting places there must be, all the new people she could meet, all the new ideas and customs and history.

And she found this path linking her musings back to her visit to their captive last night. Of that boy so very different from her people, from a life so very different than her own. And how she would most certainly appear strange and unique to people outside the Water Tribe. How different the lives of the Earth Kingdom's people might be. And, of course, those in the Fire Nation, where he had lived until very recently. How different had things been there? Granted, there was the weather and appearance of the people to take into consideration, but what other differences were there? Did the people there act and think differently than those of the Water Tribe? Did they have the same aspirations in life? Did they think of her people as she thought of the Fire Nation? So utterly exotic and strange? Her head spun as these thoughts passed through her mind.

Before she knew it, she was back at her room, and through the doors, laying on her bed and staring at the ceiling, allowing the numerous speculations to process. Of course she had pondered the same thing before, but not to this extent. She suddenly felt so small and alienated to the rest of the world. Northern Water Tribe royalty...her and her father were the only ones who belonged in such a category. Her mother had been an only child, as was her father, and neither of their parents were still alive. Two was such a very small number, in relation to the rest of the world.

But the prince--she really must figure out his name--was also royalty. He had a family, though of how many she did not know. A father, and a mother most likely, maybe a sibling or two, and perhaps even more. Maybe he had uncles and aunts. Mayhaps her father would know, being involved in such worldly matters, but she didn't want him to know she had taken such a personal interest in their prisoner. Besides, the Fire Nation had secluded itself ever since the start of the war and The Fire Lord probably didn't go around giving out such personal information as that.

A new contemplation materialized. What would his father do to try and get his son back? Evil as he was for continuing this war, he would no doubt care for his son and want to guarantee his safety, as any father would. She could only imagine how upset and troubled her father would be if she were in the boy's place, and she immediately felt a twinge of pity for the Fire Lord, as misguided as the sentiment was. His mother would be missing him, too, no doubt, perhaps even more than his father. And whatever sisters or brothers he possessed, would they be thinking of him as they played their games alone, without their older brother's presence. Or maybe he had older siblings. Would they miss his company? His family must be terribly upset after his sudden kidnapping. Although she did not have any siblings of her won, she could guess pretty well that it would be unsettling to have one disappear without a trace. Of course her father had planned on sending a notice, a ransom note of sorts, to the Fire Lord to inform him of his son's whereabouts and state the conditions that would bring about his safe return.

Brain exhausted from such intense musing, and body weary from the scarce four hours of sleep she had received the night prior, she allowed her eyes lids to close, as her mind drifted off to sleep. Perhaps she would miss her lessons, but her teachers were pleasant people. They would understand if she needed a day off. Her next visit to the prince, if and when it happened, would have to be much better planned out.

* * *

The extra blankets were a pleasant, if unexpected surprise for Zuko. He hadn't deemed his captors subject to such generosity, but he had learned never to question a good thing, what with all the misery his life had to offer. Before he could stop himself, he actually slipped up and full out thanked the taller thinner guard--what had his companion called him...Bento? Koenno? He couldn't remember--which had earned him a smile. A smile that was so understanding and content, that he almost lost his temper at the man. But not quite. It was too cold for that, and he was too thankful for the blankets, which he wrapped around himself almost immediately, not caring that Koento--he recalled finally--was in the room.

The extra layerings, while cold from the accursed temperature, kept away the piercing icy feel of the metal floor beneath him and withheld what little body heat he had left from escaping. Its dull chill was the lesser of the two discomforts, as far as he was concerned, and much more efficient than the now discarded silken robe had been. Koento still had that same infuriating smile plastered over his features, as he placed some sort of insulated container on the ground next to him, an odd whitish bowl placed next to it with a matching spoon. With a wave, the guard left, leaving Zuko in a much more pleasant mood than he had been in at his arrival.

Curious, he inched forward to open the container, steam rising out to meet him. The smell was odd and salty and the food didn't look too appetizing, but he scooped some into the bowl anyway, his stomach growling at the sight of food as he replaced the lid. His first mouthful confirmed his suspicions of the food's taste, which was far from pleasant. But the rush of warmth that seeped through him as he swallowed felt so blissfully good, that flavor was of little importance to him as he downed the rest of the bowl. It was then that he realized the eating implements were made of some sort of bone, carved and smoothed into the desired shape. And while he normally would have been at least slightly disgusted by this discovery, the fact now held even less significance than the taste and he was quick to spoon out another bowl.

This one he hate more slowly, as to not upset his stomach and savor the warmth while. His tongue had grown used to the taste, and he no longer gaged as the food met his taste buds. Unsurprisingly, his mind was more awake than it had been in a good while, so he made use of that fact, assessing his situation in a more positive and sensible light. The facts were, so far as he knew:

1. He had been kidnapped by the Northern Water Tribe

2. He was no longer in danger of freezing to death.

3. He did not yet have an explanation for his kidnapping.

4. He could not escape on his own.

And.

5. No one in the Fire Nation knew where he was.

He couldn't see his father caring enough to use any significant effort or force to retrieve him, but perhaps he would, if only for appearance's sake. Though he would no doubt be in deep trouble--that being an understatement--at least he might eventually be able to return home. And as things were, his captors did not seem particularly inclined to hurt or kill him. So perhaps it wouldn't be too bad.

His father had once told him that the people of the Water Tribe were compassionate, and wasted time with silly things like sympathy and kindness. Two traits which Zuko had in far too great quantities, he had soon added, having then proceeded to hit Zuko across the face and demand he repeat his firebending set once more.

Either way, there wasn't much he could really do in his current situation, and it was pretty good as far things could have turned out. Much better than he'd imagined. Rushing to finish the soup-like food before it became cold, he took another bowl and ate that as well, successfully emptying the insulated container. Newly warmed from the satisfying meal, and drowsy from his now full stomach, Zuko allowed himself to drift off into a sleep much better than his last one, hoping that things would not take a turn for the worse.


	9. Discovery and Discretion

It's short and later than I wanted, but at least it hasn't been 5 months, ne? Definitions of their names were found at yeahbaby (dot) com ...lol...for anyone who cares. Ooc-ness...somewhere...beware...this was pulled out by its teeth, so it's not the best quality -sweatdrop-

-sigh- I feel so bad for you guys. I know if I waited so long for a chapter I would be pissed off that its so short, but...oh well. I'll try to get more done next time but...the dreaded writers' block hit...the reason why its short. So...no idea when I'll get the next chapter up but...here you go :) For now...don't hate me. No excuses really this time. It's just been...school...bleh...and sickness. Honestly...been so drugged up and tired that I've just been a mindless zombie. And it is a proven fact that mindless zombies don't write well. I just made an excuse, didn't I...? Oh well...I'll shut up now...

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar or any of its characters...if I did it would have a fourth season :D

* * *

She had promised herself she would only stay an hour. Really she did, as she had slipped out of her room, down the empty hallways, and out of the palace during the late night. But still she sat beside the bars of the prince's cell, well over her intended stay. As during the previous night, he was asleep, curled up in the new blankets he had been given, not moving apart from the slow rise and fall of his chest with each breath he took. So intense was her gaze on the sleeping form behind the bars, that it was a wonder he did not feel it and awaken. Her eyes were trained on him with the feel of a student trying to concentrate and solve a difficult problem on an exam, but knowing the answer would elude her. Probing and interested, with the slightest mix of desperation and even a bit of curiosity, as if confused by the thought that the puzzle could possess a solution, and wanting to know what on earth it might be.

The sun would be up soon, its first rosy hued rays filtering in through the minute window, cascading over the sparse cell and its two inhabitants as it had done the morning before. She really should be going, back to her room and in bed, asleep, lest a repeat of the events following the previous visit occur once more. While it was one thing for her to miss her lessons a day here or there, it was another to miss two in a row, and quite yet another entirely to miss three consecutively. The tutors would become worried, and inquire after her absences, at which point her father would most likely find out, and she would be questioned as to why she had been sleeping in instead of going to her lessons, as was the duty of a daughter of royalty her age. Perhaps she could pass it off as sickness, but then he would have the doctors after her, and she would, of course be found out. Leading her father to wonder why she had lied about missing her lessons on top why in fact she had been absent from them in the first place. Simply put, it would be a mess, and avoiding it would be the simplest solution.

Reluctantly, she rose from her place adjacent to the metal bars, taking in one last glimpse of the sleeping boy before she left for her daily routine. His form was as still as ever, his eyelids closed, and his breathing steady. But, just as she was turning away, she caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye. Doubting her eyesight after being awake far past her bed time, in the near dark, no less, she turned back once, only to be sure. And, to her surprise, discovered that her eyes, had, in fact, not deceived her. The prince was moving, ever so slightly, stirring, eyes flickering, showing all signs of beginning to reach consciousness. Just as he had the day before when she had fled back towards the palace, afraid of being discovered, except this time she could not guess what had disturbed his sleep.

Heart racing, odd nervousness making her stomach churn, she waited for what seemed like hours, for the boy to awaken. When his eyes opened finally, he seemed to do a double take, looking at her for a few minutes, blinking, and repeating the process several times. His eyes were such an exotic color, melted gold swirling about a coal black center. She had never seen the likes of such a characteristic before in her life, though her rational half supposed it must not be that uncommon in the Fire Nation. After a another stretch of minutes, which, again, seemed to extend far past its true time frame, the firebender opened his mouth to speak.

"You are...the Water Tribe Chief's...daughter..." the words came out as more of a statement than a question in a pleasant voice, though slightly rasping, most likely from the cold and below par conditions. Yue nodded numbly in response, surprised he had so accurately guessed her identity, though in retrospect it might have been rather obvious. He paused for a moment, looking her up and down calculatingly, but not coldly, though his smoldering eyes were obviously suspicious. It was hard to imagine he had been alseep only a few minutes prior, he seemed so aware. "Why are you here?"

The passage of the words' meaning through her ears and to her brain was delayed, and she froze, mind searching at a snail's pace for some sort of response. She decided on the truth, not able to think of an excuse off the top of her head, and knowing that only complications came from lying. "I was curious," she answered, in a soft, slightly shaky voice that did not at all sound as if it had come from her mouth. The prince was quick with a reply.

"Curious?" he eyed her up and down once more, contemplatively, before another question was asked. "About what?"

"You," the word was out of her mouth before she could think and in a different tone this time: confident and slightly curt--though she hadn't intended it to be--as if the answer were obvious beyond all reason. And again she spoke just as quickly, with just as little thought, "What is your name?"

It came as a shock to her that she had not thought of this fact before. How odd, that she had never heard him referred to by anything other than "the prince" or "the prisoner" or something of the like. Never a name attached to the noun.

"Zuko." Her mind latched around the the two syllables, embedding it into her memory, as a carpenter embeds a thick nail into a plank of wood. Conceited, proud of oneself. Her teacher's definition of the word rang clear through her mind, somehow, breaking through all the layers of time that should have obscured that knowledge and made it irretrievable. The name fit him well. Proud. How he had sat so straight and still before her father the other day, even when freezing, lacking food, and in a foreign place. Still preoccupied with his appearance and showing a strong front. Prideful.

"And yours?" The question caught her off guard, but she replied out of habit.

"Yue." Moon. Simple and short as that. And then silence reigned. It was only then, that Yue noticed that the room was not quite as dark as it had once been. No where near as late as it had been the previous morning she had visited here, but late enough that she should be back in bed, leaving at the very least. An edge of panic told her limbs to run. "I have to go," she blurted out, turning and taking the handle in her grasp, glancing back momentarily, just long enough to stammer out a quick, "I...I'll come back." And then she was gone, racing through the still silent streets of the city of ice, leaving behind a curious Zuko, with many questions on his mind.

* * *

So he had not been imagining things; the girl had really been there the morning before. She had most likely just panicked and rushed off when she saw him waking up. He wouldn't put it past her. Not in the least.

But why, he wondered again, was the girl even visiting him in the first place? He was a dangerous enemy, or so she must think. Why would anyone in their right mind want to visit such a person? Especially as she was the _princess _of the opposing side no less. It just didn't make sense.

Unless she was simply curious beyond reason. Or just incredibly addicted to dangerous situations, which really didn't seem at all like her. Not that he knew the girl's character that deeply--he had seen her what, three times?--but he had been able to gather a few things. She seemed shy and cautious, but also very curious, if he were to hold true to his first theory. Before he had had her marked off as an obedient little girl, hiding behind her father and his men when she had visited the first time. But apparently, she was either allowed to stay up late visiting dangerous prisoners (which Zuko highly doubted), or she was skipping off on her own to visit. But maybe she had wanted to return on time, the cause for her abrupt panic. That would make sense. Not wanting to upset her father; he could understand that.

Sighing, Zuko nestled back into his mass of blankets, grimacing as his stomach gave forth a small growl. Already hungry, and just hours before he had downed bowls and bowls of whatever the nearly-foul substance had been. The sensation was no where near as painful as it had been, though his stomach felt uncomfortable nonetheless. But he needed to put that aside for he moment; he had more important things to think of than his over-demanding stomach.

His options were, at the moment one of two courses:

1) Try to escape

or

2) Do nothing. Just sit back, gather information, and wait for events to unfold.

As the first option would be nearly impossible (not to mention useless; he was in an unknown part of the bitter Arctic without the use of his bending powers. Making any headway in those circumstances was beyond feasibility), he would have to go with the second by default. Sit and do nothing. Very proactive. Wouldn't his father be pleased...

Frowning to himself, Zuko nestled further into his blankets, thankful for the umpteenth time that he had been given them. Thankfulness towards the enemy: another train of thought that would make his father absolutely ecstatic, he was sure. The sarcasm was suffocating, even in his mind.

* * *

Lessons flew by quickly for Yue, as her mind was elsewhere. Listening and hearing the words being spoken to her yes, but hardly taking them in, and only processing their meaning enough in order to provide a nod of confirmation, or negation, whichever the need. Daydreaming, a common hobby of the girl. But never before had she spent her lessons daydreaming about something so interesting, some_one _so intriguing as the mysterious enemy prince. _Zuko_.

She thought of tonight when she would go yet again to meet the prince and talk with him, if luck would have it. What questions would she ask him? What details of his homeland would she want to know? And would he answer her questions? He had seemed cooperative, if not exactly talkative in those few minutes they had conversed. But a name wasn't a very personal thing, or a very difficult question to answer. Still, she hoped he would consent. She yearned to know more about him, so strongly that she wondered what could be the cause of this sudden obsession. Curiosity had, of course, incited it, but was it still the driving force? Or was there something more, something deeper? Something more along the lines of...

Love...? Infatuation...? The thought struck her suddenly, and she gasped with surprise at the realization, earning an odd look from her teacher. But it must have been a well-laced gasp indeed, for he merely mumbled something about yes, indeed, in had been a terrible battle, before continuing on with the lesson. Whatever it was about. She really should be paying more attention but she couldn't find it in herself to care at the moment. Could it really be true? That she had developed romantic feelings for the firebender? Yue was a firm believer in love at first sight, but she had barely spoken to him, barely known him for more than a few days, and already....

But she couldn't find any contradicting feelings in her about the revelation. Besides that it would be taboo whether or not the firebender reciprocated her feelings. The two nations were at war. For her, Princess of the Northern Water Tribe, to love him, Prince of the Fire Nation...what would that result in? More fighting, betrayal, disbelief, disgust, anger...? Was there any possible way it could bring about peace, like the arranged marriages between those of noble birth to keep relations in good order? It seemed to big a gap to bridge.

And she was getting ahead of herself, jumping to conclusions. Right now, she needed to...needed to...she _wanted_ to go see him, right now, but it was in the middle of the day and she needed to keep this a secret. At least for the time being, until she was sure, and until she could figure this out, and until she knew more about him. He could be a jerk. He could be impolite, rude. Cold and isolated, sarcastic, jaded, and...

But what if he wasn't? What if he was a genuinely kind, good, caring person, who was not at all evil or cruel? What then...? Would she be able to help herself...? What would her father say? She knew that he loved her and would want her to be happy, but would this be too much to ask for? She didn't know. There were so many factors that could influence everything. Too many possibilities, and too much to think about. She needed to concentrate on here and now.

Maybe on her lesson for starters.

"...and that is how the 100 year war between the Fire Nation and the rest of the world began. Any questions?" She shook her head, more at herself than as an answer to the teacher's question. A whole lesson she had missed and a very important one at that. Perhaps she might have learned more about the Fire Nation and the royal family--about Zuko's background--but it was too late for that now.

So instead, she simply smiled and thanked her private tutor for the lesson before making her way outside of the palace. Perhaps she would take a walk around the city and give her raging thoughts a chance to settle. There were hours still remaining until darkness would fall, and even then it would be awhile before she could slip out to meet her Prince once more. Thinking of it would merely make her more impatient and on edge.

She sighed, trying to still and calm her thought process, but it was no use. Her excitement was getting the best of her, as usual. The frigid arctic air met her head on as she emerged form her home, the sun shining blindly over the snowy expanse. It was a beautiful sight, simply breath-taking. But still, she closed her eyes and prayed fervently that night would fall soon. She _needed_ to see him.


	10. Plans and Discussions

Holy shoes, guys...I'm afraid to check how long it's been. Updated last November 11...making it roughly...6 months and 10 days. Longest wait yet, ne? Really sorry seriously...the time just got away from me. Seriously...and my other story, school, holidays, everything...egads. Don't kill me please. I know those are crappy excuses but they're all I have And if you kill me, you'll never get anymore updates, yes?

Anyway...short chapter to boot...I'm just digging my grave, aren't I? Regardless...I'll shut up now, and leave you to read the chapter. I will put my every effort into getting the next chapter up soon. You guys just have to hope I have substitutes more often in typing...half this chapter was written there. Not proof read But spell-checked, k? Partial effort...I just wanted it up.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender, nor any of the characters...though it would make sense if I did, with all the abnormally long and tedious semi-hiatuses the show went through -sweatdrop- Shutting up now.

* * *

A soft breeze blew through the palace gardens, a pleasantly warm whisper in the mid-afternoon air. The flowers still bloomed brightly, perhaps even more so, the past weeks having given them time to fully open their petals. Clouds floated by over-head, thin and wispy, trying their hardest to block the world below from the sweltering sun. Even now, just weeks before winter, the burning orb refused to relent whatsoever, scorching its victims much as always. The atmosphere was arid, but not unpleasantly so, a welcome change from the humid days of summer.

But amid all this lovely weather, the (retired) Dragon of The West could not find solace. Months had passed since his nephew's disappearance and still there had been no news, no sign of this event ever having taken place.

Granted, Ozai had been rather miffed about the whole event, but that had soon passed with the end of summer. After all, it had only been his reputation that he worried for, not the safety of his son. But the public had taken the bait, swallowed it line and sinker as they passed about, exchanging words ("Did you hear the Prince has gone missing?" "You don't say?" "Kidnapped, I heard. The Fire Lord is distraught." "That's terrible!" "Yes, a shame indeed. He's pushing through, though, keeping up a strong face you know?" "What an amazing man our lord is.") These rumors soon passed as well, however, and now words of the Prince were only whispered on the rare occasion. Idle gossip between two housewives, in the fanciful tales and imaginations of children, yet even these were starting to fade.

Sighing, Iroh knelt down beside the pond that his nephew had loved so much. The water was clear as always, amazingly so for a pond, and the water lilies bloomed bright, drifting along the crystalline surfaces in the near-nonexistent current. Faint quacking reached the old man's ears, and he smiled softly to himself, reaching into the folds of his robes, retrieving a scrap of bread. The turtleducks emerged one by one, the children following after the mother.

He missed his nephew so much. The way he would frown so sourly and laugh the next minute, his rare but so sweet smile, so young and innocent far too innocent to deserve the burden of having to live here, having to be royalty. This duck pond only served to worsen his longing, worsen the pain that came with the knowledge that he may never see his son again.

Unless action were to be taken soon he would, in effect lose his second son. He had barely made it through the death of Luten, only because of his nephew who had served as a kind of replacement, a new person for him to project his fatherly feelings onto, a substitute to place in the gaping whole resulting from the loss of Luten. And Zuko had relished that love, relished it with very fiber of his being, even if he had often been unaware or it, brooding and moody to hide his "weakness", his happiness. Iroh had been the father, the loving supporting father, that Zuko never had, ten times the father his real one had ever been.

But now Zuko was gone, stolen from his life just as Luten had been, so quickly and unexpectedly, like fog, mist, here one moment gone the next. Would Iroh be able to survive the loss of another son, so soon after his last was ripped cruelly from him, by the premature claws of death?

No, it wouldn't come to that. He wouldn't lose Zuko, not now, not when there was still a chance he could be saved.

Determined, Iroh got to his feet, brushed off his robes, and made his way towards the chamber of the Fire Lord. Even if his younger brother were content to sit back and do nothing, pass ff the kidnapping of his one and only son as nothing, Iroh wouldn't let it be. Even if he had to row himself throw the seas in a dinky little boat, he would not let Zuko come to harm.

* * *

True to her word, Yue did return the following night, earlier than she probably should have, but late enough that she was feasibly able to do so without being caught. Much to her surprise—and delight?—the Prince was awake, sitting up, propped back against the icy steel wall, wrapped in his cocoon of blankets as always.

When she entered, he looked up, golden irises glinting in the sliver of moonlight that managed to slip in through the minuscule window. She thought to herself how beautiful his eyes were, as she had many times since she'd first seen them. Her own were blue, a nice blue, but simply blue nonetheless, such a common color here in the Water Tribe, usual, plain. Was gold prominent in the Fire Nation? Perhaps it was, but she couldn't find it in herself to imagine such an extraordinary color could ever be ordinary, commonplace.

Smiling softly, she sat down beside the bars, like she had the past few visits, each time steadily inching closer. Tonight, she was right against the bars, close enough for him to reach out and attack her if he so choose. But she trusted him, trusted that he wouldn't attempt such a thing. Whether that trust was well-placed or not, only time would tell.

"So...what's it like? Back at the Fire Nation, I mean," she stumbled over her words, suddenly shy, but excruciatingly curious to find out more about the other teen. "Do you have a family? Any sibling's? Or a..." Uncertainly, she trailed off, not wanting to finish that last sentence in regards to what the answer might be. But she did nonetheless, albeit in a much less enthused tone, "...fiancée...?"

He stiffened slightly at the stream of questions, and paused, gazing back her with those wonderful eyes, the color of molten riches, suddenly guarded and on edge. Maybe he didn't want to tell her, didn't want to "fraternize with he enemy". It would make sense after all, was completely probable, but for some reason, she was still very disappointed.

But—much to her excitement—he began to speak, quietly at first, as one would when speaking of a subject that troubled them, something uncomfortable, painful, or embarrassing. "I do have a…_family_. A younger sister, an uncle, and a…_father_. I used to have a mother but she…disappeared. I haven't seen her in years…" he trailed off slightly, looking to the side, pale lids sliding shut. His breathing was a bit harsh, as if he were having difficulty doing so, and Yue felt a shiver of regret for bringing up such obviously painful topic. But within minutes, he was calm again, composed, and her regret morphed into sympathy.

"I lost my mother as well," she whispered, looking at her gloved hands, moving the fingers back and forth. "She died after giving birth to me…"

"I'm sorry," Zuko's voice was soft, far softer than she had anticipated. He didn't seem the type to show empathy so easily.

Glancing up, Yue met his eyes—such beautiful, beautiful eyes—and smiled wistfully, moving to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. "Don't be. It was a long time ago. And it must be a lot harder, not knowing your mother's fate…"

A slight indicative nod was her only response, and an expectant silence ensued. Twice she looked up at the Prince, only to find him facing away, his matted dark hair the only thing visible from her angle. Silence prevailed for a long stretch, so long, that Yue thought Zuko no longer wished to talk to her, or had fallen asleep, as odd a position as he was in. But then came his voice, low, and calm in very weary sort of way, wistful beyond his years. "Yes, it is hard. But at least there's hope."

* * *

"Don't be ridiculous," Ozai spat, glaring up at his older brother from where he was sitting. "You and I both know that Zuko is incompetent for the role of Fire Lord. Azula has progressed much farther than her brother, and at a younger age no less. He is a _disgrace _to the family name. As far as I'm concerned, it's all for the best if he does not return from wherever he's being held."

Biting his cheek, Iroh tried to remain calm. Though collected and slow to anger by nature—such rare traits in the Fire Nation—there were topics that incited his anger as quickly as that of his brethren. Words against his nephew were one of such topics. But if he wanted any chance whatsoever at appealing to Ozai's near non-existent good side, then he could not lose his temper here. Not now, not yet.

"Ozai, I do not ask a great effort, nor expenditure on your part, merely the simplest necessary means to go after your son on my own." _Because I obviously care more for him than his own father_, he added in his mind, but he refrained from voicing these thoughts aloud.

"Iroh, my dearest brother," Ozai got to his feet, standing erectly at his full height, a good couple inches over his sibling's head. "I fail to see why you persist on the matter. I only want what is in the best interest of our nation, no more, no less. Pursuing Zuko is a wasted effort—he will not be found easily and even if found, what benefits would we gain, when Azula would be a much better choice for the throne? No, it's a fruitless pursuit, one that I will have nothing to do with."

"I'm not asking for much, just a ship and some men," he tried to keep the desperation and anger out of his voice as he spoke, but was beyond caring whether he succeeded or not. "Would you deny my efforts? It's not much for you to lose, and Zuko is my nephew and your son. Surely you care about him to _some _extent?"

Silence ensued, tense and absolute, the roaring flames usually present in the throne room absent, as the intimidation they provided was unnecessary for a discussion with his brother.

"I'll have you know," Ozai began, a sudden anger in his voice—faked or redirected, Iroh could not be completely sure. "That I _do_ care about my son. That's exactly why I'm going to leaving him in whatever godforsaken place he's landed in—because I don't want_ this_ for him. This power comes with a price: stress, pressure, _m__adness_. He's too weak, too gentle to put up with his, not cruel and stoic enough to continue on my rule. Don't you see, my brother? Do _you_ understand?"

"Ozai, I-" Zuko isn't weak, he wanted to say. He could be twice the Fire Lord you'll ever be. "Be that as it may, I still wish to go after him. There's no telling what might be happening to him in the North, granted he's reached it safely. The Water Tribe, while a generally kind people, are our enemies, or have you forgotten that. They could be torturing him, hurting him...surely you do not wish for that? One try is all I ask. If I fail, then I shall leave it be, just one chance."

Silence again. What elaborate plays are performed even between siblings when it comes to royalty. Iroh would not give up after one try, both he and Ozai knew it, just as surely as they both also knew that younger's prior performance had been faked, through and through. Yes, Ozai did indeed believe his son was too weak, too pathetic to adequately rule the Fire Nation, but his intentions to leave the boy in the Water Tribe's hands was of pure malice and unconcern, nothing more nothing less. Azula was the child he loved, always had been always would be. It would be all too easy and simple for him, should his other, unfavored child—unfortunately born first, what a pity—_disappear_ one day, leaving him and his precious daughter to wreak havoc upon the world. But—

"Fine," the word had a harsh quality, half rough, brutal, the other part akin to that of a child thwarted in an evil ploy. "I grant you this favor only because you are family, my brother. Take any ship of your choosing and as many men as you want to crew it. But one chance I give you, and only one chance. Should this mission be a failure, you will not depart again. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, indeed," Iroh smiled, as genuinely thankful as possible in such a grudging agreement, and checked himself before embracing the other man. "My deepest gratitude." Perhaps Ozai did care about Zuko to some degree, deep down. Never more so than for Azula, never, but still present nonetheless. Silently Iroh left the room, trailing out and closing the door gently behind him, quickly making his way to his room.

In sleepwear, beneath his bedding half of an hour later, Iroh stared at the ceiling, pondering of the events taken place and those to come. Tomorrow he would gather his crew, and make preparations to head of the North and the next day they would leave, off on their gallant mission to rescue the prince from his kidnappers, and save him from whatever form of hardship he might be enduring.

He hadn't expected Ozai to relent. Rather, he had anticipated having to make the proper arrangements on his own, by his own means and methods, all the while keeping underground about the whole matter lest he incite his younger brother's wrath. But his requests had been met, albeit reluctantly after much discussion.

Still, Iroh found it hard to believe that Ozai, the ruthless, stone-hearted ruler who hadn't so much as shed a tear at the disappearance of his wife, could possibly have conceded out of good will-towards son.

Ozai always had been a skilled actor.


	11. Tales and Kisses

**Hi, guys! I'm kind of on time...I guess...whatever that means ^_^ **

**Anyway, here's the scoop on how things for this story are looking. There are only 2-3 chapters left, plus an epilogue. Heck yeah...almost there :3 I can do this! So there should be around 14 chapters, give or take an epilogue. And I intend to finish this before the end of the summer. I have a month and a half. Can I do it? Past records would suggest not, but I can defintiely try. Yes. **

**It might not happen though, so don't hold it against me. Andyway, enjoy this chpater :] Thankies for reading this far, everyone. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar. That is a very good thing, espeically for all the Kataang supporters.**

**Warning: Beware for major fluff/corny/crap/ooc-ness...didn't really proofread it either.**

* * *

Yue didn't know how it had happened.

She had come back again, the next night, eager to see her prince once more. And he had been sitting up, gazing blankly into the distance, not exactly _waiting_ for her, but seemingly having expected her arrival—he didn't start one bit when she came in through the door, and sat beside the bars. Closer this time, closer than all the previous times. Close enough to _touch_.

They had started out discussing small things. Yue gleefully explained about the Northern Water Tribe, about its customs, and traditions, the weather, how the people acted, how much she loved it here. She spoke of those she saw in the streets everyday, of her lessons that she more often than not drifted off during.

The smile on her face softened when she began to talk about why she loved her nation. In obsessive detail she described the way the ice glinted warmly with the suns last rays each night, reflecting the multi-colored sky, looking for all the world like a liquid rainbow, frozen into a perfect surface. She expressed the way the wind would blow through her hair during the day, cold and chilling, but comforting and familiar, an ever present phenomenon that she had grown up with, as much as one grows up with a dear friend or sibling.

She was an only child. On occasions she had played with other children her own age, but mostly she was by herself, either alone in her room or wandering the streets when not in one of her lessons. The palace maids and servants had been her playmates, playing make-believe and telling her stories when they weren't busy with other work.

Zuko marveled at this freedom she had had. A lonesome freedom sometimes, but a normal childhood nonetheless, filled with games and fun. Haltingly, he began to relate his own.

First he started off describing the Fire Nation. He spoke of how hot and harsh the climate could become in mid summer, how the sun scorched much of the land dry as desert, and volcanoes erupted several times a year, wreaking devastation.

But then he took on a more optimistic approach, describing how beautiful the flowers had been in full bloom during late spring, and how clear his favorite pond was on a perfect day, blue as the cloudless sky, and cool in the oppressive heat. He liked the heat though, much better than he like the frigidity of the North—he shivered, as if to emphasize his point.

His childhood, Yue soon discovered, had not nearly been as pleasant as her own. It was grudgingly that he finally conceded. From the moment his sister had been born, Zuko had experienced the drive, the need to surpass her. He knew his father loved her best, always knew it deep down, as much as tried to convince himself otherwise. But he wanted acknowledgement and so he tried, so hard, so very hard with all he had to please his parent.

It never seemed to be enough. Rarely good enough to receive in the slightest hint of acknowledge, never good enough to draw actual attention and pride.

At first he had had his mother at the very least. She had given him the care and attention his father never had. When his father grew angry at him and yelled, she was there to comfort him, and when the same man he so desperately wanted acknowledgement from ignored him—not even deigning to scorn him most occasions—time and time again, she had let him know how special he was to her, and how she loved him more than she could ever put into words.

His uncle had been there too, of course. Sometimes. He had still been the mighty Dragon of the West back then, and had rarely been home. Still, the few occasions he was able to spend with his nephew, he played games with him, and they drank tea together. They had been close, closer than Zuko and his father ever had been or would be. The Siege of Ba Sing Se began, however, and at that point, Iroh was never home, only sending messages, few and far in between. Yet Zuko had still waited for hawks and the news they would bring, waited eagerly like a child waits for Christmas.

His mother had really been the one there for him, though, all the time, whenever Azula was tormenting him, or Ozai felt it necessary to yet again "teach him a lesson". When she disappeared, leaving Zuko to the mercy of his sister and father, things took a turn for the worse.

Several months passed of pure torture, every moment filled with torture from either Azula or his remaining parent. No rest, no peace of mind. His nights, the only moments he was left alone, where filled with tears and sorrow, mourning for his mother, and regret that he was not good enough, not good enough to have made her stay, not good enough to stand up to Azula, and especially not good enough for his father. No, never. But that didn't keep him from trying, yearning for acceptance. He still did, even to this day, he admitted.

And then Iroh had finally returned, at the end of the Siege. His beloved uncle, the tea loving old fool. The one person who always seemed carefree and optimistic no matter what. But he was changed, very changed, by the war and suffering he had seen, but most of all by the death of his son. He no longer smiled, he never laughed. His tea pot sat dejected and unused in the corner of his room, gathering dust, as the retired-general, once such a noble proud man, curled up amid his bed sheets and soaked in his own pain and grief. He took no visitors, he wanted nothing more than to die himself, he sometimes said. Why couldn't he have died, in place of his son? It wasn't fair.

But eventually those days had come to an end. One afternoon, Iroh had sat up and dried his eyes, washed his face, combed his hair and dressed. He had ventured outside, walking as if in a daze, unseeing, unfeeling, like a zombie. Trailing through the courtyards and empty hallways, he had eventually come upon his nephew "playing" along with his niece and her friends. But it wasn't such a heartwarming scene, as one would expect. Azula had tied Zuko up somehow or other, and she was using him as a sort of human trampoline, jumping up and down on his back, up and down. Ty Lee was turning cartwheels in the background, seemingly oblivious to the on-goings. Mai on the other hand, was hysterical, yelling at Azula to stop because she was _hurting_ him, really hurting him, and _couldn't she see that_?

Immediately, Iroh ran over to the group, and demanded that Azula leave her brother alone at once. He had scolded her, scolded her for a long time, his voice so angry and stern, and powerful, that even Azula had been taken off guard, and for once, she was the one with a fearful look her eye. Grumbling to herself, she and her friends had gone elsewhere. Iroh had untied his nephew, and helped him to his feet, enfolding him in his arms—gently for he was sore—and sobbing, sobbing, as he never truly had in all his days of grief. But then the tears had stopped, and so had his era of self-pity.

Because although Luten was dead, Iroh had another son. Another son by the name of Zuko. And right now, he needed him, needed him more than he ever had before, and Iroh had to help him, had to be there for him, as he hadn't been these past few months.

And thus things had begun to look up, if only a bit. Zuko was still tormented in every available moment, but now Iroh was there, a comforting presence stealing him away for tea and games, and even simple chit-chat every now and then.

Until his 14th birthday.

Zuko, in the way all teenagers feel at one point or another, felt his life was unfair, although he more justified than most and quite possibly even right. But the world was never a fair place. He had been robbed of his childhood, forced to grow up too fast, and now things were to accelerate even farther.

His fiancée…Yue froze here, waiting for him to continue with baited breath. Zuko was on friendly terms with her, and could perhaps grow to love her in time, who could tell? But he simply was not ready. Not ready to be grown up, not ready for all the new lessons he would be forced to take. Not ready to having anymore thrust into his life, because it was already filled to the brim, with mostly unpleasant things.

And then this had happened. He had been kidnapped, out of the blue, and brought to this god-forsaken place to freeze and rot to death—if one could rot in such frigid a climate—because his father was never going to come after him. Not in a million years.

Yue was silent at this outburst. They both were. Zuko stared off to the side, head resting in his folded arms atop his knees, Yue leaning against the bars, eyes half-lidded in contemplation and filled with sadness, legs curled beneath her.

And then it had happened. She had reached out, through the bars, placing her palms flat on either side of the foreign prince's face, and gently lifting it towards her own, pressed against the bars. And their lips had met. The kiss was not sweet, not happy. It tasted of sorrow and pity and empathy, and all manner of other sad things. But it was soft, and saturated with care and sincerity, and when Yue pulled away, her heart was racing faster than it ever had before in her life.

Zuko looked confused. Sad and hurt and lost—not because of her—but mostly and overwhelmingly confused. His pales lips shaped a single word, a question, his voice odd sounding and quiet as a whisper in the still, dark, cell. "Why?"

"Because," and here she moved even closer against the bars, slipping her arms through them, one around his neck, one around his back and pulling him towards her, as if she could absorb his sorrow into her being, and take it away from him, "Because I love you. And you deserve it." Few words, so very few words, and this made no sense. No sense at all, with the current events. She had known him but a few short weeks, no more, no less, and still she knew what she said was the truth. She knew it with every fiber of her being, and she could tell he knew she meant it. And that, as he pressed his lips to hers this time—soft, hesitant, cautious—he returned her feelings. Even if only a little.

* * *

The ocean breeze was sharp against Iroh's skin as he gazed ahead, watching the waves break and crash against the bow of the ship, as it cut through the water, fierce, commanding, and determined to reach its destination. He and his handpicked crew had set out mid-afternoon the previous day, amid goodbyes and cheers.

Ozai had made a big show of the whole affair. How he was sending out a rescue mission for his son, to save him, even if deep down in his heart he knew it was too late. But he would not believe it, would not give up hope. And thus was spawned this little escapade. Of course, he would have spared every ship and every man to pursue his beloved son. Yet, they were in a war, and he must put his people before his son, however much it pained him. The explanation for sending only a single ship on the journey.

Right.

Iroh wonder how many people were honestly stupid enough to believe the blatant lies spewing from the Fire Lord's mouth. Not that it mattered; they couldn't do anything. Having them realize the falsehoods for what they were wouldn't bring Zuko back any sooner.

And so Iroh did not dwell on the scenario, and merely pushed ahead, placing all his efforts into tracking after his nephew, and—hopefully—rescuing him. This was a suicide mission more or less. He realized this, indeed he did. Hordes upon hordes of armored warships, equipped with the best new technology and fighters of the time, had been sent to the Northern Water Tribe in hopes of defeating it, but they had all failed. What made him think he would be able to succeed against such odds? The answer was quite simple: determination and skill. Iroh needed to rescue Zuko, and he was going to, one way or another. There was no doubt about it. He might very well get himself killed in the process, but that was a risk he was very well willing to take.

Zuko had been through enough in his young life—he didn't need to suffer any more.

* * *

Yue lay on her bed, gazing dreamily up at the ceiling. They had _kissed_! Her father would murder her if he found out, but she had just had her first kiss. Her lips still tingled from where they had made contact with Zuko's. She was _ecstatic_.

In retrospect, she wasn't entirely sure what had possessed her to do such a thing, nor what had given her the courage to even think of committing such a daring act in the first place. But it had happened, and she was floating on her own little dream cloud.

Perhaps the two could get married, and reunite their nations. It was a far fetched imagining, to be sure, but what if such a thing were possible? Granted Zuko was already engaged—her heart skipped a beat at the thought—but surely that contract could be made void if such an important union were to take its place.

A silly, silly idea, of course, but one that made her stomach churn in delight nonetheless. Mind caught up in entertaining fantasies, Yue drifted off into a peaceful, content sleep.

* * *

Hours later, after Yue was long gone, spirited off for the day to her normal life and activities, Zuko mentally slapped himself. What had he been thinking, revealing all that to a border-line stranger, one from behind enemy lines no less? It was stupid, so insanely stupid, he could not find words to describe its stupidity.

And then the kiss. He was engaged, for the love of Agni, _engaged_ and here he was kissing another girl. The daughter of the leader of one of the Fire Nation's greatest enemies, again, no less. Much mental slapping ensued.

But he did feel better now, as much as he hated to admit it. Never before had he spoken for so long, so passionately, and truthfully about anyone subject, and it was therapy in and of itself to get such a thing off his chest and into the open. The kiss had been an added—albeit, shameful—bonus. Yet, in that moment, he had felt something. Some spark, some sensation that made his mind foggy with glee, and his heart soar. How idiotic and ill-placed a sentiment. He needed to worry about getting out of here…he needed to worry about…

Yet somehow, he couldn't seem to pull his thoughts away from the odd foreign girl. From Yue.


	12. Negotiations and Promises

**What is this? Another chapter and it hasn't even been a month yet? I think I'm actually making good on my promise :D Only 1-2 more chapters left, and an epilogue. I'm aiming for only 1 more, but we'll see how things work out. And I'm sorry to say, but there will not be a sequel. I'm already having to pull the conclusion to this one out torturous bit by torturous bit. My Avatar-muse has long since left me. Long since. My het-muse has long since left me. I simply want this story over and done with. That being said, I'm really sorry, those of you that want a sequel, but I will not be making one, under any conditions. **

**Enjoy the chapter :] I apologize for the OOC-ness in advance.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar. This is a good thing.**

* * *

The Northern Water Tribe was just as Iroh remembered it, a massive wall stretching out endlessly, merging into the horizon on either side, impenetrable to even the fiercest attacks. Their symbol of a crescent moon filled with waves adorned the immense structure, a single emblem that held no words, but spoke so many. It was a silent threat to the Fire Nation, the sign of a community left undefeated by the aspiring world power, a people who were the natural opposite to the Fire Nation, and thus their natural—and most dangerous—enemy.

Iroh would need to put great thought into formulating a sound plan. Granted, the one-time general had no desire to actually attack the Water tribe: he merely wanted his nephew back, safe and unharmed. While seemingly such a trivial thing to ask, with further thought, it was proved otherwise. To them, Zuko was a bargaining chip, a prisoner they could use against the Fire Nation should the day come when they were infiltrated. A shield, a precautionary measure to ensure the Water tribe's safety.

If only he could explain to them how foolish of a concept this truly was. Ozai would never do anything for his son's benefit if it did not mutually benefit himself. He was a selfish leader through and through and cared next to nothing for his son, his first born, or even his people. He only wanted and cared for power, and power alone. But the Water Tribe wouldn't know that. Of course they wouldn't. Ozai kept up the false preface of caring towards _both_ his children, even in the Fire Nation itself to his own people. Nothing but a lie.

It was uncannily quiet in the absence of the ship's engines. Iroh had ordered they be stopped, both to make their arrival less apparent until a plan could be thought of, and also because it would behoove them to save the rest of their fuel for the trip back. Floating back and forth aimlessly while they waited for the situation to progress was not a good way to achieve such interests.

But, ship and resource matters aside, Iroh needed a plan.

A direct address of the enemy and peaceful negotiations would be a good first bet, if not the only logical plan of action—after all, many a larger group had failed to do harm to the Northern power, why should he and his crew hope to make so much as a dent in their icy wall? No…it would have to be negotiation. But how to convince them that Zuko wouldn't help them as a hostage. Wasn't his presence here enough proof that the Prince did hold some significance? The Great Dragon of the West wanted the boy back—was that not enough of a reason to keep the boy in and of itself?

Sighing, Iroh pushed away from the railing he had been leaning on, straightening his back and drifting pensively towards his cabin. He would need to give this dilemma some serious thought.

* * *

The past few weeks of Zuko's life had been by far some of his happiest. Although he was still caged in his icy cell most of the time, there were blankets and warm food—his initial reluctance to the stewed sea prunes had finally warn off. But most importantly, there were Yue's nightly visits to look forward to. Since that first kiss, they had continued to meet every night, sometimes talking about their thoughts and feelings, or childhood memories and dreams for the future. Imaginings and the course of their day. Anything that came to mind really.

But other times were different. They would simply sit close together, in each others arms, pressed as close together as the bars would allow. Occasionally, their lips would touch, and for just a moment, the world and its worries would be forgotten.

In fact, it had even got to the point where Zuko wondered if it would not be better to simply spend the rest of his life locked up in this cell, in the custody of the Water Tribe.

Here he was finally safe from the tormenting of his sister and father. Here he no longer had to worry about his Princely duties.

Here he would rot away to nothing, deteriorate from lack of exercise, as his fire bending skills would fade from lack of use. Here he might die when the cold finally became too much. If he stayed here we would never see his uncle again.

But here as well, he would get to be with someone who did care, if only at night, if only for a short time. If only for a little while, he could be happy. Would that be worth it, in the end? Zuko honestly didn't know. All he did know was that, months ago, such an idea would never have crossed his mind.

* * *

"A Fire Nation ship?" Chief Arnook looked up, shock clear in his expression. "How many? Are they moving to attack?" Already he was out of his desk chair, paperwork aside and forgotten.

"Just a single ship, sir," answered the solider immediately, in an effort to calm his chief's trepidation. "And they have not made any violent moves as of yet. They simply wish to negotiate. Will you receive them?"

"Oh…" A brief pause ensued, as Arnook ran a hand throw his hair and over his face, as if washing away all his momentary anxiety. "If all they want is to talk, then I don't see why not. Give them my acceptance, and let them know I'll send an envoy out to meet them in three hour's time."

"Yes, at once, sir," complied the man, bowing graciously, before vacillating slightly. Straightening up, he inquired, "will you be attending, sir? Should precautions be taken to ensure your safety should there be an attack?"

Another moment of hesitance.

"Yes," answered Arnook, clearing his throat and visibly recollecting himself. "Yes, I think I will. Make the necessary arrangements. I'll be down to the gate once I'm prepared."

"Yes, sir," replied the other, and he left, closing the door behind him.

Arnook thudded back into his desk chair, gazing blankly in the wall's general direction as he thought. They only wanted to negotiate, and there was only one ship even if push did come to shove. But _why_ was there only one ship? They had kidnapped the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation…shouldn't a little more concern be shown? Not that he wanted it to happen—who in their right mind would actually want to be attacked?—but by all rights, the Fire Nation should have sent at least a dozen ships, more likely twice that. It was disconcerting to see such a dramatically different action take place.

But the enemy had finally come to negotiate; hadn't that been the goal from the start? Kidnap the Prince, and use him to negotiate a peaceful armistice, and end this terrible war. This was it, what they had been waiting for these past months, the end they had been awaiting since the war started so many years ago.

This would be the conclusion, a crucial moment in history. He needed his wits about him.

Taking a deep breath, Arnook checked his composure and appearance before making his way down to the docks as he had promised.

* * *

The Dragon of the West was not who Arnook had expected. Not that he had anticipated anything in particular. A high-ranking general, or maybe several, but not a member of the royalty himself. This changed matters.

Taking a breath to compose himself, Arnook observed the man before him. The legendary fighter did not look anything like how he had imagined he would. He was of less than average height, and stout, the beginnings of a stomach visible even beneath his thick crimson garb. His haired was more or less completely gray, only slight specklings of a darker brown remaining as evidence to its previous color.

But his eyes were sharp and cool. They watched as Arnook and his men climbed up the ladder from their boat, setting foot on the metal deck. He felt as if they could see through him, his every hidden thought and motive, however untrue he knew that to be.

The old man's entire presence simply oozed calm and serenity, hinting at a quick mind that would be able to come up with solutions under pressure, and withstand even the most difficult trials. _This_ was what marked him as truly the great warrior he had heard so much of, this aura the other man just seemed to exude with his every breath.

"My greetings to you, Chief Arnook," Iroh bowed slightly in a polite greeting, before straightening.

"Mine as well, Dragon of the West," Arnook respectfully returned the gesture, before continuing on. "It is my understanding you wish to make an offer regarding your Prince?  
"

"My nephew, yes," Iroh confirmed genially. "Would you care to decide the details in a more comfortable setting? I have jasmine tea inside my cabin, waiting."

The older man made his way into the ship, Arnook behind him, and the Water Tribe soldier's behind him, tensing every time they encountered a set of their Fire Nation counterparts patrolling the corridors. When they finally made it to their destination, Iroh waved aside the two men at his door, before pushing it open, and waiting for the other to walk through. Arnook did as indicated, waving his hand to his men, gesturing that they should stay outside the room.

The door closed with a gentle thud, surprising for such a large, thick slab of metal. Iroh made his way over to the low table set in the center of the room, kneeling beside it on one of the decorative cushions. Taking the steaming kettle, he poured out two cups, offering one to his guest. Arnook accepted it with a smile and brief word of thanks.

Then matters returned to business.

"So, I take it that your plan is to use my dear nephew, Zuko, as a bargaining piece, should my Nation show up here once more with violent intent. Perhaps you even intend to use him to barter for world peace, for the end of this useless war."

Arnook nodded hesitantly; that had been his intention.

"In that case, let me direct your attention to a flaw in your plan," Arnook stiffened at the word "flaw" waiting as Iroh paused to take a sip of his tea. "My brother does not care enough for his son to agree to the first plan of action, let alone the second. He would let him die, without a second thought. To him, Zuko would be dying to honor, to help the Fire Nation. To him, that would be the most use he thinks to ever get out of the boy. To him, Zuko's death _will not matter_. I think you see my point, yes?"

Arnook's mouth down-turned into a grimace. "Is that so?" Never had it crossed his mind that the Fire Lord would not even care for his own son's life. But really, didn't it make sense? The Fire Lord was a cold-blooded murderer, a fiend. A demon. Why would he care more for his son, than he cared for all his people that he sent to war each day? All those men that were dying, he did not care for them. And apparently, he did not care for his own family either. What else should he have expected?

But then another thought crossed his mind. What if this man was trying to trick him? Often he had been informed that the Dragon of the West was crafty, very much so. He could be playing him at this moment, leading him to believe his words at face value, when really all he wanted was to convince the enemy of his nephew's worthlessness so that he could get the boy back easily, without struggle. If they thought the boy was no longer useful to them as a hostage, it would be ten times easier to reclaim him than the other way around.

"How can I be sure you're telling the truth?" Arnook returned, eyes narrowing ever so lightly in suspicion, as he took another long sip of the tea. The other man's composure failed to change whatsoever in response to the accusation. He had expected this.

"How indeed," mused Iroh in a vaguely wondering tone, setting down his cup on the table's surface. "Quite honestly, I don't have any way to prove such a thing, do I? Short of leaving you to your plans and letting you see first hand what I have just told you. No, I'm afraid you'll simply have to trust me."

Silence. Depending on the honesty of an enemy—that was never a safe move. But what else was he to do? Test out the old man's theory, only to fail? Yet what did he stand to lose? He had sent out a messenger bird just over two weeks ago now, carrying his declaration and terms for the return of the kidnapped Prince. Why not await the reply, and make his decision then?

"I will need time to consider your offer," replied Arnook, slowly getting to his feet. "Thank you for the tea. I will let you know my answer as soon as the message I sent out is returned, and I have had sufficient time to deliberate. Until then." He extended his arm, and took the other man's hand in a firm polite handshake, before making his way outside the room, and back through the maze-like interior of the ship, his soldiers behind him.

The air was sharp and bitter on his face as they returned to their boat, and were propelled back inside the massive wall. Arnook hoped the reply would come soon.

* * *

"Your uncle's here," was the first thing out of Yue's mouth that night when she came to visit. She said it with reluctance, her blue eyes not darting up to meet his gold one's as they so often did when she was experiencing some sort of unease.

"What?" Zuko whispered, surprise clearly evident in his voice. Yue glanced up, observing his countenance. His expression was a mixture of astonishment and…was that _happiness_? How much she wished her eyes were deceiving her. So he was happy to leave then? She couldn't help but feel a pain of hurt and betrayal surge through her at the revelation.

"Your uncle arrived today, to negotiate for your return. My father met with him." Yue went on, the upset behind her words obvious. "He says we should just…just let you go back with him. That your father won't make the trade. That's true isn't it? From what you told me…"

And then the tears came, streaming down her dark cheeks, sobs hitching her breath softly every now and then. After these past few weeks they had spent together, she had hoped he would at least be a little reluctant to leave, when the unfortunate time of their parting came to pass. She herself did not even want to try and imagine it. It stung, like a vicious wasp trapped within her.

"Are you crying?" a cold hand came up through the bars, brushing against her skin, smearing the wetness. His voice sounded so concerned, so worried. It only made the tears come harder. "What's wrong?"

"You want to leave," she murmured, finding a brief pause in her sobs, though the tears continued to flow. The hand against her cheek flinched, and the boy before her froze, eyes widening slightly in realization.

"I…I didn't…" his voice was rather alarmed, such strong emotion in place of the monotone he had first displayed when he spoke to her. "I don't mean it like that. I don't want to leave _you_. It's just…my uncle. I'm happy he came…I'm happy..."

"Yue, I-" whatever he was about to say next was cut off, by lips on his own. He tasted salt from her tears, as they kissed, and sadness in the prevailing desperation.

"If you want to leave, I'll talk to my father for you," she offered, after pulling back slightly. "I'll let him know what you told me, about your father. I'll convince him…and then you can go home. Zuko, I love you…if you want to go…I will. I'll help you if it makes you happy." She didn't mention that her heart felt as if it were splitting in two, sore and breaking into tinier and tinier fragments as she continued.

"Yue, I-"

"If it makes you happy, Zuko, I don't mind…I'll…I'll be ok. As long as you're happy."

"Yue, I-"

"Just promise me you'll still think of me every now and again. Don't forget me."

"Yue!" she jumped at the increase in volume, as a hand clamped over her mouth. "I never said I wanted to leave. I'm just happy my uncle came to try and save me. I…I love you, Yue." He grimaced as he forced the last part out, looking as if he were choking on his own saliva. "I don't want to leave you."

And Yue's heart swelled, feeling warm and heavy in her heart. So full, the rhythmic thump felt almost painful in her breast. "But what if they make you? What if…what if you have to leave?"

"Then I'll have to leave," he replied simply, tucking a loose strand of her silvery hair back behind her ear. "But I won't forget you. Never, I promise. Can I expect the same?"

"Of course," she returned, tears of joy this time shimmering in the corner of her eyes, such beautiful eyes, clear as the cloudless summer sky back in the Fire Nation. She pressed as close to his chest as she could through the bars, and he wrapped his arms around her tight. And all through the night, he didn't let go.


	13. All Good Things Come To An End

**Ok, so here's the scoop. Last chapter :D Finally. I guess I'll post an epilogue in a bit...either later today or tomorrow. Although I have to say, the story really doesn't need one. You guys know how it goes...this is just an unexplored, probably un-cannon branch off. But whatever. I'll make one, should probably only be about a page or two at most. Not very long, not very long at all. I probably could have tagged it on here...but I wanted them to be seperate. 13 chapters on this fic just doesn't appeal to me and my border-line Obsessive-compulsive fixation with numbers. **

**Short...yeah I know it is. But there really wasn't much else to say. We're done...it's done. Yay. Enjoy the last chapter. Only a week or so after the last one...maybe less? New record, yes? I totally could have finished this months ago -is ashamed- Ah well. I 'll let you guys get on with it. C'ya in a bit.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar. If, I did it would be filled with cheese. Yes, cheese. Much like this chapter. You have been warned.**

* * *

Chief Arnook narrowed his eyes, reading through the message once more, just to be sure he had read it correctly:

_We will not make any negotiations on behalf of my son. I know he would be honored to die for_

_his nation, and although it pains me to lose my dear child, it is a necessary sacrifice._

_The war will go on, and no future attacks against the Water Nation will be halted in regards to _

_this situation. _

And that was it. A short concise message, dismissing his son's life so easily. Not even a signature, just a minute burn in the designated place. Arnook couldn't believe what he was reading. If Yue had been captured by the Fire Nation, he would have put forth every effort to ensure her safe return. But the Fire Lord…Arnook felt sick with rage as he took the message, crumpling it into as tight a ball as he possibly could, before chucking it violently off to the side.

So that was it then. The kidnapping had been for naught. Running a hand roughly down his face, Arnook sighed deeply, letting his frustration out with the air. Well there was no point in postponing the boy's return. He might as well let the boy know the change of plans, and send him back with his uncle at once.

With a last look of revulsion at the crumpled bit of paper now discarded in a lonely corner, Arnook made his way out of his office and towards the cells.

* * *

Arnook couldn't believe his eyes. He had entered the cells, he had expected to find the Prince, curled up in his corner of blankets, alone as always. Not in a million years would he have anticipated the scene that lay before him.

His daughter was sitting beside the prisoner's cell, _wrapped_ in said prisoner's arms.

Arnook's first reaction was to shake her awake and yell, scream, _do something_. What did she think she was doing? Didn't she realize how dangerous he could be? Didn't she realize he was the son of their greatest enemy? Didn't she realize how entirely senseless she was being?

But on closer inspection, Arnook noticed how peacefully the two were curled together, how innocent and childish they both appeared. Two such very different souls, form so very different upbringings, nestled together, oblivious, even if for only a moment, of the worries this world had to offer.

Was it really so wrong that she had visited this prisoner, this boy? Was it really a bad thing that she had to decided to come and comfort him when he was in a place so unfamiliar, strange, and quite possibly even hostile form his point of view? When looked at it from this perspective, was this really the wrong decision? No, he honestly couldn't say so. Whatever evils his father had committed, it wasn't the boy's fault. He shouldn't have to suffer.

And so he sat beside the door, and waited, and watched. Eventually the two would awake, and at that time, he would fill them in on the proceedings, and scold Yue for her carelessness. But that could wait. Let the two sleep on in their own little world just a little longer, impervious to the plagues of the real world.

* * *

The first thing Yue saw when she awoke was Zuko's hair, her face having been pressed into it, head resting on his shoulder. She inhaled deeply, relishing in his scent, his presence, simply taking joy in this moment. Whatever might happen in the future, they were together now, and none of it mattered.

Her bliss was cut short however, as she noticed how bright it was in the cell. Sunlight was streaming in through the small window, and not just the morning's first ray's either. Full-blown near afternoon sun. She felt her heart jolt in her chest, and quickly pulled away, only to have her stomach sink lower at the sight before her.

Sitting not even ten feet away was _her father_. She started so violently that Zuko, still beside her, woke up. He looked around him with blurry eyes, expression vague and sleepy for a moment before realization dawned on him, and his eyes widened.

"F-Father," Yue stuttered, inching away from Zuko, hands clenching nervously in her lap. "It's not…I can ex—"

He held up a hand silencing her. "Relax," he began gently, smile on his face, "I'm not upset. I just wish you would have more…discretion in the future. Or at least tell me, Yue. I must admit that at first I was a bit…alarmed, but I can be understanding."

Yue looked blankly up at her parent, mouth open, but no words coming out. Arnook smiled reassuringly in response, and came closer, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"As for you, young man," he turned to Zuko, gaze hardening slightly. "There has been a change of plans. You will be returning to your homeland at once with your uncle. Guards will be here to take you within the hour."

A smile quirked his lips. "I'll leave you two to say your goodbyes." And with that final statement, he left the room.

Zuko turned to Yue, a mixture of shock and sadness dusted over his countenance. "Yue…I-I guess this is good bye then."

"Yes," she murmured in reply, snuggling back into his embrace. "I'll miss you. Please keep safe, and remember to think of me from time to time. I won't forget you."

"Myself as well," Zuko replied, squeezing her close one last time, and planting a quick kiss on her lips before pulling away, and retreating a couple steps back into his cell.

"You should go now. Good luck."

"You, too. Goodbye," Yue whispered, striving to keep the tears from falling, as she turned away and left the room. On her way back to the palace, she crossed paths with the guards on their way to Zuko's cell. They gave her slightly funny, questioning looks, but she was too preoccupied to notice.

She would never see Zuko again most likely. Never as long as she lived. Her heart felt fit to burst, and her mind raced with a whirlwind of thoughts, but there was nothing she could do to cure either.

Zuko was passive as the guards came to get him. He went along with them without resistance in the least, merely walking along, not even caring to put up his usual regal act. His mind was elsewhere, filled with thoughts of the girl he had come to care so much for in such a short time. Would he ever see her again? Most likely not. And as he was led through the streets, wordlessly, soundlessly, a single tear dripped down his cheek.

* * *

"Yue," Arnook wrapped his arms around his daughter as she ran into his chest, tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry. I realize that you cared deeply for the boy, but it was in the interest of the Water Tribe to return him without a struggle. His…his father refused to make any trade with us. Having him here was merely a danger to our people. You must understand."

"I know," she mumbled, nodding slightly against him, tears still flowing. "But I still wish…I still wish we could've…" she subsided into violent sobs.

Arnook held her close, as if that could some how stop her tears, and heal her pain. As she stood there, heart-breaking, he felt his own shattering into little pieces as well. Such were the side-effects of being a parent.

* * *

The moment Zuko set both feet on the deck of his uncle's ship, he felt warm, rather thick arms embracing him. He smiled despite himself, meeting his uncle's gaze, and discerning the obvious elation and relief shown there.

"Welcome back, my nephew," the old man stepped back, withdrawing his arms. Several Water Tribe guards looked up from where they stood, still on their own small craft. Waiting, cautious.

"I thank you, gentleman. Best wishes to you all," Iroh announced his gratitude, before the men took off in their boat, propelled by bent water.

Zuko watched them go, smile fading from his lips, eyes narrowed against more than just the setting sun. It felt so good to be back on a Fire Nation ship, back with his uncle. His bending abilities were even starting to return, his last dose of drugs having been the previous morning. Within a couple weeks, he would be back at the palace, back home.

It was a bittersweet feeling, through and through. As much as it felt nice to be back in the routine of things, he was none to eager to see his father again. None too eager to once again face the torments of his sister.

But most of all, he would miss Yue, and the short time he had spent in her company. Even though he had been a prisoner, and had suffered near the beginning, and in the frigid cold, he had enjoyed these past months, more so than he would ever admit to another living soul. Except maybe to Yue, should he by some great fortune get to see her again.

Sighing to himself, he watched the great wall of the Water tribe slowly get smaller and smaller, bit by infinitesimal bit. He would most likely never set eyes on the place again, and even less likely the girl whom he had come to know so well behind those walls. But his heart and every fiber of his being yearned to.

He knew now, he would never be happy with Mai, or any other girl his father had him engaged to. He would always feel as if there were some part of him missing, some crucial fragment lost and blown away, never to be found again.

And more than anything else, he knew Yue must feel exactly the same way.


	14. What Happened After revised

**Alright. So. I think it is the general consensus that the previous epilogue was absolutely horrid. And I, as before mentioned, am very inclined to agree. So strongly that, after very minor convincing (a metaphorical slap of sense, if you will) I decided to rewrite it, because, really, even if the idea was in my head beforehand, stories change. Never start with the end in mind, because it changes by the time you get there. And so, I revised it. It is no longer cannon. At all. But that is ok, because this is fanfiction, and therefore, does not need to be cannon. I hope you guys actually enjoy this one, and thank you everyone for readingthis far and putting up with me. **

**A special thanks to** _Caellach Tiger Eye_** for deliveringng the metaphorical slap of sense. It was very much needed :]**

**The best to all of you, and thank you once again, for reading this. You are all wonderful readers, and I couldn't have done it without you. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar. This is (still) a good thing.**

* * *

Weeks passed. Zuko returned home and fell back intothe normal gait of life. His sister's tormenting was back witha vengeance, and his father remained harsh and uncaring as ever. The new lessons were quite the chore to put up with on top of it all, but he had his uncle to pull him away for a few hours several times a week. It was these times he enjoyed best, but as the days went by their visits became fewer and farer in-between.

Only months after his return, things took a drastic turn for the worse. Iroh, thinking he was doing the boy a favor, allowed him into a war meeting. He hadn't know Zuko would speak up in defense of the troops about to be sacrificed. In fact, he had warned the boy against it, warned him to be quiet. But he had gone against his advice, and voiced his sentiments, out of turn. So very out of turn.

Yet even after this, Iroh never anticipated Ozai to go so far as to challenge the boy to a duel. It was senseless, cruel. And the boy had accepted, proud and naïve. It wasn't until was actually in the arena, in front of all those people, that h realized it was his own father he would have to face, not the old general who's plan he had opposed.

And he had then begged for forgiveness. Proud he might be, but not so proud as to go against his father, his kin and blood. No. Despite all the pain and torture said parent had put him through, despite all his harsh words and blatant disregard towards his well being, Zuko cared about his father. He loved him, just as any kid loves their parents. Even in front o all those people, and even at Ozai's urging, he could not bring himself to fight his own father.

He had paid the price very dearly. A blast to his left eyes, fierce and powerful. That had been the first punishment, an ever lasting reminder that he had disappointed his father beyond toleration, that he was a disgrace. Banishment was the second portion. It was difficult to decide which hurt more: the pain of the burns surrounding his eye, or the fact that his father no longer acknowledged him, and would no longer put up with even the sight of him.

Irohhad come with him. He stood by his side throguh the treatment of the burn, and implored his younger brother to lessen his terms of chastisement. But Ozai would here none of it, and Iroh realized the lost cause for what it was. His efforts then had been put forth solely into caring for Zuko, and getting him throguh the trials he would be sure to now face.

For the only way Zuko could ever hope to return to the Fire Nation and restore his honor (what a ludicrous concept), would be to capture the Avatar. The Avatar who had been missing for a hundred years now. A fools errand. Iroh new it, Ozai certainly did. But to Zuko, it was his only hope. A hope he never had a chance at full-filling. And perhaps for that, more than anything else, he cursed his brother.

Iroh would care for Zuko and help him throguh this, try and be the father Ozaihad never been. He would put his every ounce of strength and effort towards this goal, and the _Fire Lord _could go rot in the deepest pits of hell for all he cared.

* * *

Yue, on the other hand, passed life much as she had before the foreign Prince had ever arrived as the Water Tribe's prisoner. But despite how similar the actions were, her feelings had changed since that time, seemingly so long ago now, even if it had only been months.

She thought of Zukoeveryday and missed him with every fiber of her being. Her longing for him had become a tangible force, present in every action she went through, ever word she spoke, and every tear she cried at night when she was alone in her room and out of ear shot of others. She knew she would never be the same.

A couple years later she learned of the plans for her engagement to Han, a distinguished and noble-born warrior among their tribe. She knew she would not love him, not in a million years. He was a cold, callous jerk; she saw that the moment she met him. But even if he had not had such revolting characteristics, even if he had been perfect and caring and handsome as any husband she could ever hope to have, she knew she would never forget Zuko. Not entirely.

When Sokka came along, the week of her 16th birthday, she thought she loved him. His quick temper and the way he toned down his emotions. The hurt and loss she could see in his eyes, hidden deep, so deep that you'd never notice it if you didn't know where to look. These traits reminded her of Zuko, of the boy she had loved so many years ago.

But this boy had blue eyes, not gold. His skin was of the same shade as hers, not pale as snow. He made jokes, such lovably stupid jokes that nonetheless made her smile every time she heard one. Zuko had done no such thing. And Sokkacovered his true emotions with a grin and laughter. He played the part of a clown, despite his intelligence, and the pain of losing his mother [and father?] she knew must be in there somewhere. Zuko had just played the silent, rigid royal.

They both were strong, strong for those around them, wanting to protect, rather than be protected. Another similarity.

Yue thought she could love Sokka, as dearly as she loved Zuko. That she could be happy with him. Even when her father announced she would be married to Hans, had made their engagement official, she had hoped he would succumb to his compassion, and let her marry Sokka instead, should Sokka agree to such an arrangement.

And then the Fire Nation had arrived at their doors, withhundreds and hundreds of ships, the likes of which they had never before seen. And she was reminded of when Zuko's uncle had arrived to take him away, even though the two situations had been so very very different. And she knew, that no, she could never be completely happy with Sokka. Not after what she and Zuko had shared. Never.

Yue did her part, trying her best to help. She had led the Avatar—Aangwas his name—to the spirit oasis, in hopes he might be able to make contact with the Spirit World and get help. He had just entered into the Avatar state when _he_ arrived.

_Zuko_. He was so different from how she remembered him. He was taller now, but just as pale, his eyes still the same gold. But his once full head of hair had been shaved off, all except for the top-knot. A mark of banishment. It was old-fashioned, but she knew the symbol nonetheless. _Oh Zuko…_

A scar marred the skin around his left eye now. An angry red scar, rough and ragged, remains of a clearly painful injury. Where had he gotten such an injury? What had he been through in the few years they had spent apart.

There were other differences too. There was an almost tangible aura of bitterness around the boy now. An intense anger directed at the world in general. What had been done to him? She looked on in shock as he began to attack Katara. He was after the Avatar, concentrated on that as his sole purpose. He never cast Yue so much as a glance. Did he not recognize her? No…impossible.

"Zuko!" she called out, running towards the melee, anxiety clear in her expression. The fight stopped almost immediately, and the recognition passed over the other in a near tangible wave as he turned to her, the golden eyes she loved so much wide with surprise.

"Yue?" he questioned, sounding so hesitantly hopeful, that Yue felt her heart would break. She was in his arms before he could get out another word, nuzzling against his chest, falling so comfortably back into the position she had not occupied in well over a year now.

Katara gazed on in shock, not really willing to believe her eyes. "How do you know each other? I don't understand…"

Yue turned slightly, allowing the waterbender to see her face, and the over-whelming happiness portrayed there. "A couple years ago, Zuko was taken prisoner by my people. I visited him in his cell, and we became friends…" _And more._ The words were unspoken, but everyone knew the end of her statement. "But then his uncle came, and took him away. I haven't seen him since. What happened?" The last bit was addressed to the scarred boy.

"I was…banished," Zukogrit out, voice saturated with bitterness. "It's a long, painful story, one we really don't have time to get into now. But in short, the only way I can return to my nation and restore my honor, is to capture the Avatar, and hand him over to my father." Yue's eyes widened in alarm, and so he went on. "Yue, you must understand. I need to do this. It's the only way my father will ever accept me. It's the only way I can go home."

"Zuko, didn't you tell me how much you hated it there? How terrible your father was to you, what torture it was to be there?" He frowned, and brushed away the beginnings of tears forming in her eyes. "And you're telling me that you're willing to destroy the world's last hope, ruin any chance the rest of the world has to fight back against your father…just to earn the admiration of a man who hates you, and regain honor that your father can't have taken away from you? You can't have you honor taken away, Zuko. Honor is something you lose yourself. Trading the world's last hope, for something that might make you a little happy—that's dishonorable, and wrong, Zuko. Doing something like that is how you lose honor."

There was a long silence, the only sounds were the running water, and the soft lull of Aang's breathing. Katara glanced back and forth between the two, mind spinning. Zuko…after all the months he had been chasing them, pursuing them relentlessly as they went along their journey. Was this who he really was? Simply a hurt son who wanted the love of his father? She couldn't help but feel pity for him at the thought.

"Zuko, I love you," Yuewhispered, tracing his jawline, fingertip drifting gently over the scar tissue. "You can stay here, with us. We can be happy. Wouldn't that be better? You can teach the Avatar fire-bending, and help them win back the world form your father. Help them save the world. Doesn't that sound like a much better idea?"

And Zuko sighed deeply, closing his eyes. "It's been years since I started searching for the Avatar. To just give that up, just like that." He snapped his fingers. "It seems wrong. But, what else can I do. I lost my ship, I lost my men. I could go on, I could keep pursuing the avatar, but…after what you said, it seems so selfish. I can't keep doing that, I can't. All I have left are you…and my uncle."

Another pause, shorter than the first. "He's probably down there trying to keep Zhao under some semblance of control. We should go help."

"Zuko," Yue murmured, kissing him softly on the lips, letting her eyes flutter shut briefly, before she spoke. "I'm so proud of you. You're making the right choice, I know you are. Everything will turn out well. I promise. And I'll always be there for you. I'm sure my father will let you stay."

Aang chose this moment to return from the Spirit World. Of course, he was all at once alarmed and confused by the appearance of Zuko since he had left this world. But quietly, calmly, Kataraexplained the situation to the Avatar, and he grinned knowingly. "I knew you weren't all that bad," he said happily, air-bending himself to his feet. "But we really need to get back to the fight." And with that said he raced off. Katara smiled at his retreating figure, before going after him.

"I missed you so much," Yue admitted, pressing their lips together once more.

"Me too," replied the other softly, his eyes narrowing slightly. "We'll have to talk later. After this is all over. About…" He gestured to this marred left cheek.

"Yes, of course," Yue agreed, squeezing him close before withdrawing from his embrace. "But we should go help out now, as much as we can."

He nodded in silent agreement, and together they set off into the battle. Yuecouldn't fight, and both of them were aware of that fact. But Zukowould protect her. He always would, until his last breath.

* * *

The Siege of the North ended in favor of the Water Tribes. Zhao, it would appear, had had the master plan of destroying the moon spirit and thus succeeding during the waterbenders' ensuing weakness. But he had been intercepted before he could put his plan into action (thankfully), and he and the rest of his men had been defeated and sent packing by Aang after he fell into the Avatar state.

All with the exception of Iroh, who decided he would stay with his nephew and help him and the Avatar save the world. They would wait for awhile more now, finishing up Aang's waterbending skills, and teaching him the beginnings of firebending, no matter how much he protested against learning the elements out of order.

At first the people of the Water tribe were (understandably) weary of the two firebenders in their midst, firebendersof royal blood no less. But with time, they realized that Zuko and his uncle, were on their side, and for the most part grew use do their presence.

Several months later, the trio, with the new addition of Zuko and his uncle along for the ride, made there way back out into the world, so that Aang could master the rest of the elements. He found an earthbending teacher in a blind little girl by the name of Toph, tough as she was small.

Another several months passed, and the attack on Ba Sing Se occurred. Zuko, despite his sister's tempting, remained resolute on his decision to help the Avatar. It hurt to see the deep look of shock and betrayal Mai sent him when he announced his decision, but it was all for the best. Really, it was.

* * *

Years later, after peace was restored to the world by the hands of the Avatar and his friends, Zuko and Yuewere married. It was a beautiful affair, taking place in the lush gardens of the Fire Nation's palace, in mid-spring. The flowers were brightly blooming, the air fresh with the scent of approaching summer, and the sky clear and blue apart from the occasional fluffy white cloud drifting overhead.

It was awkward and tedious, traveling constantly between the Northern Water tribe and the Fire nation, so eventually, much to the dismay of her people, Yuedecided to live withher new husband. Shortly after, she became pregnant. With twins it was later discovered (Iroh and Arnook were ecstatic).

A boy with his mother's looks, and a girl with her father's. Only time would tell what bending powers the two would have, but Yue and Zuko were content to live in the now with their wonderful children, and simply enjoy the fact that the war was finally over.

Of course, negotiations were still going on, and it would be decades before the wounds inflicted by what everyone now referred to as the Great Hundred year War (it had endured more or less a century) even began to heal.

But everything would be alright, Yue consistently assured her husband, when he returned from a particularly hard day at work. Everything would be alright she promised, as she had since that day back in the Northern Water tribe so many years ago. And as Zuko drifted off to sleep once again, his wife in his arms, and his children safety tucked up in the nursery next door, he couldn't help but believe her. She had never yet lied to him, and he knew that as long as they were together, he would always be alright.

**The End**


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